A Simple Strength
by nikipinz
Summary: Changed the title. :P UberXena, as opposed to Xena - relationship between two main characters is similar to that of Xena and Gabrielle, but not at all the same. Yuri.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: "****Chan eil saoi air nach laigh leòn" is Gaelic for "No hero is proof against injury."**

**Also, just a reminder that this story is NOT actual "Xena and Gabrielle," but a somewhat similar relationship in a somewhat similar world. Enjoy.  
**

The campfire cast an eerie, flickering light on the surrounding woods. Normally the forest would have been dark and silent at this late hour, but now it rang with the sounds of mens' voices and bawdy laughter.

A young woman sat apart from the general revelry, busily mending a chain mail shirt. She wasn't bound like the terrified prisoners who sat to her right, but she wasn't joining in the celebrations, either; she looked, in fact, utterly bored with the whole affair. After a few more twists, she slipped her tool into a pocket in her jerkin and held up the chain shirt for inspection. She seemed satisfied. With a nod, she put the mail on and buckled her belt over it.

"Not joining in the fun, Tara?" A hulking man with an unkempt beard grinned in her direction. "You should, y'know. A little ale would do you good."

"No, Kernos," she said diffidently, rising to her feet. "Not tonight. I've finished what I told you I'd do. Now I'm leaving."

"Much obliged, I'm sure." He gave her a nod. "We couldn't have done it without you." She gave him a sidelong look, but said nothing. "I already had the boys get together everything you asked for in payment. You've got five hundred gold, your choice of weapons or armor, and a horse and cart to carry it with. You want to take your choices now?"

Tara laid her hand on the hilt of the sword that was sheathed at her hip. She glanced thoughtfully at the heap of valuables the mercenaries had taken in their raid. Her gaze moved to the huddled knot of prisoners. "Actually," she said slowly, "I think I've changed my mind. I've already got my sword, and good enough armor to suit me. I want one of the slaves."

The muscular warrior raised a brow. "Oh?" He looked curiously at the captives, and then back at her. "Are you sure? A slave wouldn't be worth as much."

"Not in money, maybe. But I could use someone to set up my camp and cook for me every now and then," Tara said coolly, flicking a stray strand of red hair out of her eyes. "It's a little tiresome doing all that after a hard day's ride, sometimes."

Kernos shrugged. "All right. Help yourself, then. You can take your pick." He swept his arm at the group of prisoners. "Take whichever one you want, Tara. You earned it."

"Yes. I did." The woman moved to stand a few feet from the captives and folded her arms across her breast, running a practiced eye over the selection. _I want one young and strong enough to withstand hard travel, but not so strong that I'll have any trouble staying in control, _she mused, mentally discarding the males and the older females. Tara also passed over a couple of the plainer girls – she had her pride, after all, and she wanted only the best. Finally, she spotted the one she wanted. A timid-looking, black-haired girl was huddled in between the trunks of two large trees. She was a pretty little thing, not much over five feet, and had large, frightened green eyes. Tara thought she looked about eighteen years old.

With three long strides, Tara crossed the distance between them. The prisoner uttered a whimpering cry as the taller woman caught her by the arm and wrenched her to her feet. "I'll take you," Tara said coldly. "Let's go." The girl stumbled alongside her to the cart that held Tara's money and supplies. She glanced at them, ensuring that everything was there, and then dealt the slave a light shove. "Get in." The prisoner nearly tumbled into the cart in her haste to obey. With her hands tied behind her back, the girl couldn't break her fall. Tara shot out a hand and narrowly saved her from cracking her skull against the wooden side of the cart. She let go again with a snort of impatience. "Sit down. Back against the wood."

Really, Tara didn't think that this fearful creature would pose any threat to her, but she hadn't survived this long by being complacent. She took a coil of rope and bound her prisoner's legs. Then, pushing the wide-eyed girl firmly back against the slotted wooden wall of the cart, she tied her securely to it. Only when she was fully satisfied that the slave couldn't move did she toss the rest of the cord back into the cart. With this little chore finished, Tara moved around to inspect the horse they had given her.

The city they'd razed had been well-known for its horses. They weren't the powerful warhorses that Tara preferred, though; these were smaller and more compact, made for pulling carts and plows. She ran her hands over the russet flanks of the beast, checked its legs and teeth, and peered at the bottom of each hoof. _It will do, _she decided at last. With one final glance at the reveling mercenaries, Tara swung into the saddle and dug her heels into the horse's flanks. It started forward, pulling the cart behind it.

It was nearly an hour's travel before the drunken singing and shouting finally faded into the distance. Tara grimaced. She didn't like to travel by night, but she'd had no desire to stay in the camp. She had no need for such companionship. Normally she preferred to work alone, but she wasn't above making such temporary alliances if the pay was to her liking. She glanced back at the cart with a faint smirk. This last job had paid her gold enough to keep her well-fed for quite some time. She was pretty well satisfied with it. If her new slave girl should prove herself useful, as well, Tara would even consider it a rousing success.

They had been traveling for close to three hours when they came upon a clearing in the woods. Tara reined in the horse and glanced up at the sky. It was probably close to midnight; it would be wise to make her camp now. She swung out of the saddle and led the horse off the road. With deft fingers, Tara undid the harness and tethered the horse to a nearby tree. She hummed under her breath as she began to rub the beast down.

It didn't take too much time after that to lay out her bedroll and light a supper fire. Then she went back to the cart and, fetching the two heavy sacks of coin, put them under the head of her sleeping mat. Her stomach rumbled then. Tara rose to her feet and went back to get her prisoner.

The girl trembled in silence as Tara released her from the side of the cart. The warrior paused in the act of untying the knots that held her legs. "What's your name?" she asked sharply.

Wide green eyes flicked briefly up to meet hers. "Epona," came the barely-audible whisper.

Tara's hand shot out to catch the girl by the throat. The captive choked pitifully. "When you address me, _slave,_" she said icily, "you will address me as _ma'am. _You will show me respect. Do I make myself clear?" The black-haired girl nodded tearfully. "Good. Then let's have that again, shall we?" Tara released her. "What's your name?"

"Ep…Epona, ma'am." The girl flinched as Tara moved again, but the warrior merely stooped down to untie the ropes around her legs. Tara slung the bag containing her food rations over her shoulder with one arm, and drew her slave down from the cart with the other. As an afterthought, she also grabbed a skin of wine. Epona made no move to resist as she was led to the campsite.

When they reached the fire, Tara let her go and stood facing her, folding her arms over her chest. "Can you cook?" she demanded. The prisoner nodded fearfully. "Good. You can make yourself useful, then." With a few quick movements, she released the cords that held the girl's wrists behind her back. "Get some life back into your hands, and then you can fix my supper. Make it quick, and don't try anything stupid. I'm faster than you are, and one hell of a lot stronger. Don't make me prove it." Tara tossed the food satchel to the ground at the girl's feet. Then, coolly, she sat down cross-legged on her bedroll. The ropes that had bound the prisoner went into a neat pile beside her. With her dark eyes fixed on the slave girl, Tara uncorked her wineskin.

Epona's small hands trembled as they sorted through the items in the satchel, selected a few, and set to work. She seemed to be making some kind of a quick gruel. Tara nodded her approval and took a mouthful of wine. It was tart and pungent, but certainly wasn't the best quality. The warrior grimaced as she swallowed. _Oh, well. Can't win them all. _She made a mental note to buy some decent sherry the next time her travels took her through a village, and took another gulp. Her attention strayed back to Epona.

Tara had given the girl a cursory inspection back at the camp, but she hadn't really taken the time to study her. Now she did, taking periodic sips of wine. Epona was slight, with a slim neck and long, slender fingers. Tara looked more closely at her hands. They were very white, like the rest of her; the skin looked smooth and soft. The only visible calluses were on the tips of her fingers and the pad of her thumb. Tara frowned – she'd seen marks like this before. _She plays the harp. This is no peasant girl. _Her dark eyes moved back up to her slave's face. Epona's cheekbones were high and well-formed, and her nose was long and straight. Tara couldn't restrain a smirk. _Well, well. Seems like I took the best pick of the litter, all right. But I wonder why some high-status girl would know how to cook? _The warrior took another long pull at the wineskin. Then she set it down and leaned back against a tree trunk. "So tell me, Epona. What was your father's name?"

The timid green eyes looked at her for a moment. "My father?" Epona quickly returned her attention to the steaming pot on the fire. Tara saw her chin lift slightly. "My father was Lord Timon Tabor, the chieftain of Minos, the second son of Lord Titus Tabor. –Ma'am." The words had been spoken with both sorrow and pride.

"I thought as much." Tara took another thoughtful sip of sour wine. She was well aware that some lord or other had been killed in the raid, as well as a couple of his sons. "You look like a noble. So where do you fall in the birth order, hm? My guess would be pretty low."

"I'm the youngest of his seventeen children," Epona confirmed quietly. "I'm the second daughter of his third wife, ma'am."

"Ah. That explains your knowing how to cook. It's not likely you'd be married off to someone rich enough to keep a chef, right? They'd all want your older sisters." Tara smirked as the girl gave a silent nod. "And now, here you are, kneeling in the dirt to cook a pot of porridge for some freelance mercenary. Life's a bitch." She laughed a bit and took another mouthful of wine. "You play the harp?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Sing?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Have some manner of education? Reading, writing, that sort of thing?"

"Yes, ma'am." Epona stirred the pot, which by this time was beginning to give off a delicious smell.

"Well, isn't that something." Tara chuckled. She was greatly amused by this development. She'd had slaves twice before, both of whom had been freed by her after a year or so of service, but neither of them had been bluebloods. _This might be more interesting than I thought. _The warrior went back to her silent scrutiny of the young woman.

After another ten or fifteen minutes, Epona moved the steaming pot off the fire and spooned some of its contents into a bowl. Tara watched idly as the girl turned toward her. To her mild surprise, Epona didn't rise to her feet. Instead, cupping the bowl carefully, the girl approached her on her hands and knees. When she reached a spot about two feet away, Epona stopped and laid the bowl down within Tara's reach.

The warrior raised a brow. "What was that about?"

"I'm your slave, am I not?" Epona asked quietly. "A slave's head should never be above her master's, ma'am. Not if she's properly trained. None of my father's slaves would have dared."

"Huh." Come to think of it, Tara had heard that before, but she'd never seen it in practice. She smirked a bit and eyed the food. "Well, if you know all that, then you'll also know why I'm not touching this porridge until you've tasted it, first." Epona's eyes widened slightly, but she didn't comment. Without a word, she took the bowl in her hands and put it to her lips. Tara watched closely as the girl swallowed her mouthful. Then, with a cool grin, she extended her hand for the bowl. Epona laid it on her palm.

Tara had to admit that the gruel was tasty. She sent Epona back twice for another helping. Then, with a sigh of satisfaction, she tossed the empty bowl in her prisoner's direction. Epona caught it with a noticeable flinch. "Is there any more left?" Tara asked curtly.

"Not very much, ma'am," the slave said. Her green eyes rested quietly on the ground.

"Good. You're lucky, then. You get to eat tonight." The warrior waved a hand at the fire. "Go have whatever's left, and make it fast. You still have to clean stuff up before we can sleep." Epona ate her meager supper quickly. Tara watched as the girl repacked all their food into the satchel and cleaned their cooking vessel. Then, taking up the ropes that lay beside her, the warrior rose to her feet. "Come here, Epona."

The captive made no protest as Tara tied her hands again. The mercenary looked around, found a patch of relatively soft grass, and ordered her captive to lie down. Epona did as she was told. Tara bound the girl's legs. Then she paused, briefly pushing her finger in between the ropes and the young woman's skin. She judged that the bonds were tight enough to hold her, but not tight enough to cut off her circulation. "Sleep tight," she said pleasantly. Then she returned to her own bedroll.

Although Tara did love a clean, soft bed at an inn every now and then, her first love was still lying down beneath the stars. She stretched out on her bedroll and draped her blanket over herself with a deep sigh of contentment. Her muscles ached pleasantly from the day's fighting and riding. With great satisfaction, Tara closed her eyes.


	2. Chapter 2

Tara was up with the sun the next morning. She left her captive bound while she went in search of the stream that she knew flowed more or less parallel to the road on which they had been traveling. She took her time bathing and dressing. By the time she made her way back to the camp, Tara was feeling hungry again. She released the ropes that held Epona's limbs and tersely ordered her to prepare breakfast. Then she sat back down on her bedroll, drew out her sword, and began to sharpen it with a stone. She hadn't yet had time to maintain her weapon after the previous day's battle.

The slave made tea and took out a ration of bread and cheese, which she brought quietly to her owner. Without being told, Epona took a small bite of the food before laying it in Tara's hand, and then a sip from the steaming mug. The warrior jerked her head in approval before she ate. Tara made no offer to share, and Epona didn't ask.

At length, when breakfast was over, the warrior sheathed her weapon and rose to her feet. "Time to pack up," she said curtly. "You watch what I do. This'll be your job after this, understand?" The slender girl nodded. She watched closely as Tara packed their things into the cart, and then threw earth on the remaining coals of their fire. Lastly, the warrior took up the sacks containing her gold. She held them up and fixed Epona with a cold stare. "These," she said, "you never touch. If I even catch you breathing on them, I'll give you the beating of your life."

"Yes, ma'am." Epona flinched and turned aside slightly, as if to shield herself from a blow.

Tara maintained the menacing look for a moment or two before tossing the sacks into the cart and covering them with the rest of the supplies. "Get in," she ordered. The young woman climbed up. Without being told, Epona moved to where she had been bound the day before. Tara gestured. "Give me your hands," she instructed. "I think you're going to behave yourself, so I'll tie them in front of you this time. Don't make me regret it." The girl shook her head emphatically as the warrior bound her wrists, but said nothing. Tara couldn't quite restrain a smirk as she passed the ropes around Epona's body and tied her back against the wall of the cart. She'd expected the girl to be easy to dominate, and she was certainly being proved right. _But again, never be complacent, _she thought calmly, wrapping a few lengths of cord around Epona's slim legs. _I'd hate to have to waste my time tracking her down if she decided to run._

"Ma'am?" Tara paused in the act of turning away as the soft voice reached her. She turned back. Epona's head was bowed, and she was looking at her through the soft, black fringe of her lashes. "Please, where are we going?"

The warrior rested her hand on the hilt of her sword and put her head on one side. The hint of a smirk played about her lips. "Well, normally I'd say nowhere in particular," she said. "My work usually finds me without any problems. But I've spent nearly two months sleeping under the stars now, and I wouldn't mind a hot supper, a warm bath, and a soft bed in the near future. So we're heading east. There's a village about three days' ride that way; their inn has the best sherry this side of the sea." The prisoner nodded silently. "You've never done much sleeping on the ground, have you?" Tara was faintly amused as Epona shook her head. "You'll get used to it," she said, turning away. "And you'll get used to walking, too, once I've got myself a decent horse and gotten rid of this cart."

_A decent horse. _Tara's lips curved upward as she swung into her mount's saddle. There was another reason she was heading for this particular town – it was renowned for its powerful horses. It had been a long time since she had owned a proper warhorse. If she could get one, she'd also be able to wear heavier armor again, and even carry a decent shield. She thought fondly of her sacks of coin. _Yes, this will be good, _she mused. _If I can get a few more jobs like this last one, maybe I can get myself set up properly again. Pretend these last two years never happened._ Her brown eyes grew pensive.

She had been a fighter all her life, and from the day she'd first left home, she had proved that. From barroom brawls to street muggings to actual battle, Tara had nearly always found a way to come out on top. She'd earned herself the nickname "Terror" from her fellow mercenaries after a particularly punishing brawl, in which she had dealt out three broken noses, many bruised ribs, and far too many black eyes to count; she herself had come out of it without a scratch. Tara had always possessed unusual physical strength, speed and agility, and she used them to great effect.

But even the powerful Tara wasn't immortal, and that had been proven two years ago. She had made many enemies in the course of her life. Until that fateful day, she'd always managed to stay one step ahead of them. Tara had been riding by herself over a flat stretch of land. She'd let the fact that she could see for miles make her a little complacent, and had let herself relax in the cool autumn breeze. Then it had seemed like the road had erupted, as brigands burst out of the covered pits where they had been hiding. There had been only confusion and pain and darkness after that.

She had awakened in the dead of night with her face resting in a muddy pool of her own blood. She had been stripped of her armor and weapons, and her horse was nowhere to be found. Countless wounds had scored her flesh; she'd counted five arrow shafts protruding from her legs and left side. After a while, she'd realized that she wasn't too far from the place where she'd been ambushed. Even though she'd been more than half dead, Tara had managed to drag her broken body fifty yards back to the road, and collapse there. She'd then lain there for two days before a passing merchant spotted her and took her to a nearby town, where she had finally been seen by a healer. She never did find out which of her enemies had finally managed to track her down.

Her physical recovery had been slow, and her mental one even slower. Where she had been cold and ruthless before, she became even more so; her temper, which had always been short, became deadly. She'd been feared; now the tales of her exploits became almost legendary. Tara had lost track of how many souls had fallen under the pitiless edge of her blade. Hundreds, for sure. Maybe even thousands.

Tara's dark eyes warily scanned the road ahead as they traveled. Occasionally they moved upward to scrutinize the trees that overhung the road. She would be glad to get out of these woods, she reflected. She much preferred to travel in open spaces, where most threats could be seen and met properly. Tara idly loosened her sword in its sheath. Even her boundless energy had been a bit taxed by this last round of fighting. It had taken three long days of battle to bring down the city completely, and she'd had next to no sleep in that time. It would be good to rest at an inn for a while, she thought. _Maybe I'll stay three or four days, instead of one or two. Might as well get fully rested up before heading out again._

At noon, Tara stopped to let the horse drink and rest for a while. She gave him a bit of a rubdown, as well; a bit less thorough than the one she'd given him the night before. Then, as she hitched him back up to the cart, she thought of her prisoner. _Oh, right. I suppose I'd better check on her._

Epona looked at her timidly. She looked rather miserable, Tara thought. Coolly, the warrior checked the girl's bonds to ensure they weren't chafing her too badly. Then she pulled the cork from their water skin. "Here," she said shortly. "Open your mouth." The slave obeyed, and Tara let her have a few mouthfuls. With that, the mercenary headed back for the horse, and swung astride.

They made fairly good time that day. Tara found herself in a good mood by the time they stopped for the night. She went around to the back of the cart and released her prisoner. "Set up camp," she ordered as she pulled the cords from Epona's wrists. "I'll deal with the horse. You can start my supper once you've done that." The black-haired girl nodded quietly. Tara began to attend to the russet hide of the horse.

Horses had always been a private pleasure of Tara's. She not only enjoyed riding them, but also taking care of them. She couldn't really put her finger on why. It was something about the way a horse's coat looked after she'd groomed it – as smooth and shiny as satin. She hummed absently and she brushed him down, casting a glance at Epona every now and then as she worked.

It was interesting to watch the girl, Tara thought. Even though Epona's limbs were long enough to be almost ungainly, her movements were never clumsy. She moved with a certain subtle grace that peasant girls could never quite match. _She almost reminds me of a yearling colt, _Tara thought, grinning at her own flight of fancy. She turned her gaze back to the horse, eyeing his gleaming coat with professional satisfaction. "There we are. That's better, isn't it?" she murmured. "Let's tether you over there. I think I see some nice, thick grass you could have for supper."

Epona had done a good job of setting up the camp. She'd obviously paid attention the night before; she'd even placed her owner's sleeping mat on the same side of the fire as before. Tara paused, and then glanced into the back of the cart. The two sacks of money still lay where she'd thrown them that morning. _Good. She didn't touch them. _Tara took them up and, crossing to her bedroll, tucked them beneath the head of it. Then she dropped down onto it, cross-legged, and began to sharpen and polish her blade. Her dark eyes still followed Epona.

The girl seemed to be preparing a soup of some kind, judging by the smell that was wafting from the pot. The firelight played over her pale face, casting shadows that highlighted her delicate cheekbones and deep-set eyes. Tara's lips curved appreciatively. She broke off for a moment to inspect her sword. The blade was gleaming like glass. The warrior sheathed it and sat back to resume watching her captive. _Nice, _she thought, her gaze sliding over the boyish figure, and the long arch of Epona's back. _Very nice, indeed. _She had a pleasant mental image of running her hands down that smooth curve. Tara's grin grew almost predatory.

Tara couldn't really remember when her interest in sex had begun to develop, but once it had, she'd approached the subject in the same way she approached everything else – directly. She had gathered some money together and gone to the nearest brothel, where she'd spent the night experimenting with lovers, both male and female. She had much preferred the women. _Well, _she'd thought then, _that's that. _From that point onward, Tara had mostly confined her attentions to females. She knew, of course, that her predilection wasn't acceptable in most respectable circles, but that didn't really bother her. Most of what she did wasn't considered respectable.

Epona had finished her work. She brought a full bowl to where Tara sat, tasted it silently, and held it out. The warrior took it and ate. It tasted good; she jerked her head in approval and tossed back the empty bowl. "More," she said curtly. The slave did as she was told. Tara drank a second time. "More," she said again, thrusting the bowl into Epona's hands.

The dismay that crossed the slave girl's face at this amused Tara. She knew Epona must be very hungry by this time, since she hadn't given her anything that morning, and very little the night before. It was likely that there was only about another bowlful of food left, and the slave girl was thinking about going to bed hungry. She watched with continued amusement as Epona quietly poured out the rest of the soup and brought it to her. Tara took it, leaned back against the trunk of a tree, and drank a little. "Tell me more about yourself, Epona," she said congenially. "You told me you're the youngest child of some lord or other. How well did you know your father?"

"Not very well," the girl admitted. "I was mostly with my mother or my sister, or with my tutors, ma'am. Father was always busy with the estate, or with running the city…my brothers and half-brothers got to see him sometimes, but I didn't, really." Her green eyes wistfully followed the bowl as Tara raised it to her lips again.

"Did any of your family survive?" Tara asked curiously, pausing in her eating.

Abruptly, the girl turned her face away. There was a moment's pause before she answered. "No, ma'am." Her voice was choked.

"None of them?" The warrior raised a brow and took another mouthful of soup. Epona shook her head silently. "Hm. I can understand them killing your father and brothers, since they were fighting us, but we could have gotten a good price for your sisters, if any of them were half as pretty as you. Waste of decent slaves." Tara shook her head in disgust. "Kernos never did have any sense of the value of things." The captive shot Tara a wide-eyed look. Tara could see horror and revulsion in the wide, green eyes. She felt another ripple of amusement. _Good. Better that you know what kind of a monster I am. Easier to keep you in line, that way. _"They were killed in front of you, I suppose?"

"My sister was." The answer was almost inaudible. "They…they cut off her head, ma'am."

"Well, at least it was quick." This earned Tara another horrified, tearful look. The warrior took another calm and deliberate mouthful of soup. _Is she really just going to let me talk like this and eat all the food right in front of her, without a protest? Gods, she really is a little mouse. No spunk at all. _She grinned. _This should be a fun night. _"Tell me, Epona. You've never been married. Did you ever have a beau?" Epona shook her head, still visibly fighting back tears. "So you've never bedded anyone, then."

"N-no. Of course not!" There was obvious shock on Epona's face as she protested.

_Even better. _Tara finished the soup and casually tossed the bowl in the slave girl's direction. Epona caught it. "Clean up," she ordered. "Don't dawdle. When you're done, bring me the food satchel." The captive did as she was told. Tara's eyes followed her until she was once again kneeling before her, holding out the bag in which they kept their food.

Coolly, the warrior took the satchel from her and rummaged through it. After some searching, she found one of the small packets she was looking for. She opened it and took out a piece of hardtack about the size of the palm of her hand. "Bring me the water skin," she instructed. Epona wordlessly obeyed. Tara filled a cup with water, and then put both cup and bread into the slave's hands. "Since you've done pretty good work today, I'll let you eat," she said calmly. "Soak that in the water until it's soft enough for you."

"Thank you, ma'am." The green eyes misted, but didn't meet Tara's.

Tara watched with some interest as Epona began to nibble on the edges of her hardtack. The girl ate neatly and politely. Tara had to admit that it was a rather nice change from the wolfish devouring that her fellow mercenaries usually indulged in. She turned her attention to Epona's hands. Like the rest of her, they were small and slim. She couldn't help but wonder how those neat little paws would feel against her skin. Tara smirked; the grin widened a moment later as she noticed how Epona was shifting uncomfortably. The scrutiny had not gone unnoticed.

_Enough of this, _Tara decided abruptly. _I want it now. _She unbuckled her belt and removed her mail shirt. Then, reaching out, she plucked the bit of remaining hardtack and the cup from Epona's hands. The slave stared at her in mingled dismay and bewilderment. "You might as well start learning some of the other duties I expect you to perform for me," Tara said calmly. "Take off your tunic. Now."

"My…tunic?" The girl's hands drifted to the ties at her throat that held the garment closed. Her green eyes were full of confusion as she began to obey, but she didn't question the order. Soon the laces were loosened. Epona pulled the garment over her head, leaving her naked to the waist.

The warrior's breath caught in her throat for a moment. "Not bad," she murmured. "Not bad at all." Epona's bewilderment grew. Tara could see the unvoiced questions in her face, and – in the very depths of the wide eyes – the first beginnings of fear. Like a predator scenting blood, Tara felt her heart rate rise. With a wolfish smile, she reached out, caught the slave girl firmly by the scruff of her neck, and pulled her forward into a bruising kiss.

"_Mmph!" _The slave uttered a squeak of horror and alarm. Tara could feel her squirming. She tightened her grip and wrapped her other arm around Epona's waist, pinning her slender body firmly against her own. With the smaller girl restrained, Tara took her time, drawing her tongue slowly across Epona's upper lip before pressing through them to gain access to her mouth. She felt the slave's struggles increase at this. Tara smirked and explored Epona's mouth thoroughly, savoring the taste of her. At last, she pulled away.

Epona was gasping and whimpering. She tried to get free, but Tara easily maintained her grip. "Please," the captive begged. "Please…"

"Quiet." The warrior's icy glare froze Epona's whimpers in her throat. Deliberately, Tara kissed her again, and then moved her face until her lips brushed against the shell of the girl's ear. "You belong to me," she whispered. "You might as well get used to that. I won you with my sword, Epona. You're mine. _All_ of you." And she ducked her head down to bite down lightly on the side of the slave's slender neck.

"No. No. Please." The smaller woman struggled harder, bringing up her hands to push against Tara's head. With a soft grunt, Tara swept Epona's legs out from under her and put her neatly on her back. The girl cried out. "Stop it! Please, stop it. I c–can't…this is abomination…"

Tara felt a sudden flash of anger. She rose up to her knees and caught Epona by the throat. The movement was terrifyingly swift. She glared down into the petrified green eyes beneath her. "I told you to be quiet," she snapped. "Now you stop whimpering, and you stop fighting me. Understand?" Epona squirmed again, and the fingers around her throat tightened like a vise. "_Do you understand?"_

"Yes! Yes, ma'am." The slave shut her mouth tightly and fell limp. Her body still quivered with sobs, but she was making a valiant effort to stay silent.

"You'd better," Tara growled. "Disobey me again, and I _will_ beat you." As quickly as it had flared, her anger cooled again. She lowered herself onto the shivering girl and resumed her interrupted work.

Normally, Tara would have stopped and immediately begun coaching a slave in how to touch her. This time, however, she found herself enjoying Epona's reactions enough to keep going. The girl was incredibly responsive. And all the while, those huge green eyes stared up at her, full of a mixture of fear and confusion and pleasure that Tara somehow found very endearing. The warrior's touch grew gentler. "That's right," she murmured half to herself, stroking her palms up and down Epona's sides. "This is your first time, isn't it?"

"Y–yes, ma'am." Epona squirmed and gasped helplessly.

"Hm. Maybe I'll take it slow, then." Tara's mouth trailed kisses down the side of the girl's neck to the sharp line of her collarbone. Her skin tasted slightly salty. Tara felt Epona stiffen as her lips moved lower. "Relax," she murmured, her mouth moving against her captive's body. "I'm not going to hurt you." Her hands slid down to pluck at the belt at Epona's waist.

The slave followed her owner's orders about silence and submission to the letter, right up until the end. She did let out a strangled yelp when Tara's hand first slid in between her thighs, and a sharp cry or two when her release finally came. The warrior stroked her gently until the last tremors had rocked the girl's slim body. Then she pulled Epona against herself, holding the black head that lay against her shoulder like a child's. The slave was shivering violently; soft little sobs shook her. "Shh," Tara reproved. "Quiet, now. No one's hurt you."

"I can't….please, I've…I d–don't…" Epona's voice was broken.

"Shh," Tara said again. "You're all right." Small hands clung tightly to the front of Tara's shirt. She held the trembling little body until it finally lay still. Then she peered down. Epona's eyes were closed, and her head was dead weight on Tara's chest. She was asleep.

_I really should make her get dressed and tie her up for the night, _Tara reflected. _But then again, it is rather nice to have my bedroll warmed again. _After some deliberation, she reached back to pull her blanket over the two of them, making sure that Epona's naked form was well covered. _I'll just leave it for tonight. I can always bind her again later, if I need to. _With that, she rested her head on her arm and closed her eyes.


	3. Chapter 3

The morning's waking was a pleasant one. Tara opened her eyes to find the lithe form of her slave still clasped in her arms. She had cuddled closer during the night, and the smooth lines of her boyish figure were pressed tightly against the more pronounced curves of the warrior's body. Tara peered down at Epona's sleeping face in mingled amusement and curiosity. She could still see the marks of the tears on the girl's white cheeks. _I'll have to let her bathe this morning, _the warrior thought calmly. _Maybe I'll just take her down to the brook with me. _The idea did present some interesting possibilities. Tara considered them as her right hand began to wander aimlessly over Epona's lean back. Her skin felt pleasantly warm and smooth.

After a moment or two, the slave stirred and woke. Tara watched as confusion flitted momentarily through the moss-green eyes. She smiled and leaned forward to kiss Epona's soft mouth. "Good morning," she said. The younger girl blinked at her, but said nothing. "Did you sleep well?" Tara murmured, moving down to draw her tongue around the sharp corner of her jaw.

"Yes, ma'am."

The warrior felt the slave shiver as she whispered. She wanted to take Epona again. A quick glance up at the sky told her that it was already late; reluctantly, she gave her prisoner's earlobe one final nibble before releasing her grasp on the girl's body. "Get up," she said shortly. "You can wash with me this morning. Bring your clothes."

Although it was early summer, the stream that flowed through the forest was still icy cold. Tara stripped and bathed quickly. Epona hesitated on the bank, shivering, her arms wrapped around herself. The warrior gestured. "Come." The girl obeyed, wading out into the knee-deep water. "Kneel down," Tara commanded. With a shudder, Epona complied. The warrior dipped her bar of lye soap into the water and efficiently began to clean her slave's pale skin, as she would have groomed the hide of one of her horses. "Dunk your head," she said at length. "I don't want you getting lice or something. The things are murder to get rid of." Epona silently ducked her head beneath the water, and Tara washed the black locks. Then they dressed and returned to their campsite.

Without being told, Epona went at once to the fire and began to rummage through the satchel that held their food supplies. Tara grinned and nodded approvingly. _Good, good. That's what I like to see. Keeps her mouth shut and does her job. _She inspected her mail shirt, and then her blade; both seemed to be in good working order. The weight of the armor felt good as she buckled her belt around her waist. With a sigh of satisfaction, she sat down to watch the girl work.

Although Tara had owned a slave twice before, she couldn't recall having enjoyed them as much as she was enjoying Epona. Clytie, her first, had been a muscular, white-blond girl; Tara had bought her so that she could help carry her heavier equipment. It had worked out fairly well, although the first three or four weeks had been a bit rocky. Clytie had not been a docile slave at all. Tara had wound up having to give her three or four hard whippings before she'd finally begun to obey without a sneer. The second had been Meriel, a quiet little brunette. As soft-spoken as she was, though, Meriel had also had a stubborn streak, and it had cost Tara considerable pains to finally break it.

_But this time, I've got it right. _Tara smirked as she watched Epona stir the pot of cooking porridge. _I don't think I'll have to break this one much at all. She already cringes and submits. _Her grin widened. _Yes, I think this will work out well._

Epona broke her train of thought by approaching with her breakfast. The warrior ate with some appreciation. When she'd emptied her bowl, she eyed the slave for a moment. "Good work," she said calmly. "And I'm glad I didn't have to tell you what to do." Epona bowed her head quietly. "If there's any porridge left, you can eat before you pack everything up." The smaller girl nodded and turned to obey. Tara went to take care of the horse.

The beast seemed happy enough; there was still enough thick grass around him that Tara judged she wouldn't have to graze him before they left. She led him down to the brook to drink, and then brought him back to the road to hitch him to the cart. The slave had already finished most of the packing. Tara eyed her as she buckled the straps of the horse's harness. "How'd you like to ride with me today, instead of being tied up behind?" she said. Epona looked at her uncertainly before nodding. "Good. Saves me the trouble of having to check on you all the time." Tara turned back to her work. "There's a feedbag in the cart somewhere. Go fill it with as much grass as you can, in case we can't find good pasture for this fellow later."

It didn't take long for the work to be done. The quiet captive returned in a few minutes with a full bag, which she put in the back of the cart. Then she tentatively moved closer to where Tara was rubbing the horse down. The warrior looked at her out of the corner of her eye. "Does he have a name?" Epona murmured, timidly brushing her palm against the beast's haunch.

Tara raised a brow. "No. He doesn't."

"Oh." The slave let her hand drop and looked away.

This was the first time Epona had really tried to initiate something like a real conversation. Tara looked at her thoughtfully as she wiped her hands on a rag. "You like horses, Epona?"

"Yes, ma'am." The girl nodded.

"That fits, seeing how you're named after a horse goddess." Tara tossed the rag carelessly into the cart. "Don't get too attached to this one. He'll be gone once we get into town."

The wide, green eyes flicked briefly over Tara's face, and dropped again. "He…should still have a name."

The warrior paused and gave the slave girl a hard look. Epona said nothing, and didn't meet the woman's gaze. Finally, Tara decided that the girl's words hadn't been defiant. "If you want to give a name to a horse you're only going to ride for two more days, fine. I'm certainly not going to waste my energy on it." She swung into the saddle and reached down. "Give me your hand." Tara grasped Epona by the arm. With a burst of strength, she lifted the girl up into the saddle in front of her. Epona gave a little gasp at this, and Tara grinned, slipping her left arm comfortably around the younger woman's waist. She dug her heels into the horse's flanks.

They rode in silence for some time. By force of habit, Tara fell into watchfulness, her dark eyes flicking over the road ahead. After nearly an hour, the warrior sighed a bit. "Did you have something in mind?"

"Ma'am?" Tara could hear the puzzlement in Epona's voice.

"The horse," the warrior said, with a touch of impatience. "You were so all-fired worried about his having a name. I figured you must already have an idea."

There was a pause. "Well…yes, ma'am. I thought maybe Ruskin."

Now, that was somewhat interesting. Tara raised a brow. She'd half-expected something mundane and slightly irritating – something like "Beauty." She thought a moment. "That means _little redhead. _Not a bad name, I suppose, if he must have one."

"Yes, ma'am." Epona craned her neck to look up at her. "How did you know that?"

"And why shouldn't I know it, little highborn slave of mine?" Tara asked coolly. "Do you think that because I can swing a sword, I must naturally be some stupid, illiterate barbarian?"

"No, ma'am." The warrior felt the captive shiver as she shrank back down in the saddle. "I…I'd never say that."

"That's right. You wouldn't. And you'd better keep it that way, if you'd like to keep that smooth, white back of yours unmarked." Tara slipped her hand up underneath the fabric of Epona's shirt to rest possessively against her belly. Both of them fell silent for a while. "I do read, you know."

"Oh." Epona's voice was a mere whisper. She said nothing more.

Tara sat back in the saddle, her fingers playing idly over the smooth skin beneath them. "In fact," she said, warming to her subject, "I just got my hands on something interesting before this last campaign. It was an epic about the gods of these eastern kingdoms. You have some interesting legends here." She grinned. "I particularly liked your Ares. He seems like my type."

Epona shivered. "He's the god of war."

"That's the one," Tara said cheerfully. "He seems to divide that up with Pallas Athena and Artemis, though. Now, in my home country, they leave all that up to the whims of The Morrigan. It's much more efficient to have only one god doing it, I think."

There was silence again for a few minutes. "Ma'am?" came Epona's soft voice. Tara grunted. "I…I heard them call you Tara, back at the camp." The girl's black head lowered. "I've heard stories, ma'am, about a western warrior named Tara with hair the color of blood. She's slaughtered whole villages by herself. They say she knows no pity, and her father was Ares himself." Pause. "Are…are you…?"

A cool smile spread over Tara's face. She patted Epona's soft belly. "I've been called the daughter of Ares once or twice," she said calmly. "That's why I got my hands on that book, actually. I wanted to find out who was being accused of being my father." She felt the slave girl flinch under her touch; the slender body began to quiver. "It's true that I don't know pity, but it's also true that I don't waste things," Tara murmured. "You don't have to fear for your life so long as you obey me." Leaning forward, the warrior caught Epona's delicate ear between her lips and nipped it lightly. "But I'm sure that won't be a problem, will it?"

"No, ma'am." There was tension in Epona's body, but she didn't pull away. Tara smiled and sat back in her saddle. She pulled the girl against herself. After a moment or two, Epona relaxed again; her dark head rested back against the warrior's chest. Tara's attention turned back to the long road ahead.


	4. Chapter 4

The town of Argos was still much as Tara remembered it. She let an easy grin relax her face as she rode toward the inn, and slipped her hand up against Epona's abdomen. The slave shivered and tucked herself deeper into the crook of Tara's arm. The warrior looked down at her. "Scared?"

Epona bit her lip. "I've…never been away from home before, ma'am," she admitted softly.

Tara was amused yet again. _Little mouse. _She patted the girl's belly. "Just you keep me happy, and you won't have to worry about what anyone else might do," she said. "No one you'll see here is half as dangerous as me." Epona nodded silently. "We'll go get a room first, and then do some buying and trading." The warrior looked fondly in the direction of the market. She was looking forward to being properly outfitted again. _And I think I'll make sure of you while I'm at it, my little mouse girl, _she thought, glancing at the smithy that lay just down the street. _Might as well, since we're here._

They had reached the inn. Tara swung out of the saddle and lifted Epona down. A boy approached them from the direction of the inn's stables; Tara held up a hand. "Don't bother putting up my horse," she said calmly. "I'm selling him." Her dark eyes flicked to her slave. "Just hold the reins and wait here," she instructed. "I'll get the room." Epona nodded, reaching obediently for Ruskin's bridle as the warrior turned away.

Once Tara had secured their room and left their supplies there, they headed for the blacksmith's. The warrior spent well over an hour looking at what he had to offer and haggling for what she wanted. She finally settled on a new set of bracers, leg armor, a crested helm, a bronze shield, and a short hauberk of leather and brass. Tara stacked her purchases neatly in a corner. "I'll come back for them in a couple of hours," she said as she counted the coins into the blacksmith's callused hand.

"As ye wish," the man said agreeably. "Pleasure doing business with you."

"I'll want something else, too." Tara paused and jerked her head in Epona's direction. The slender girl was peering curiously at a pile of gleaming new horseshoes. "You do slaves here, right?"

He frowned. "Aye," he said. "But a little creature like that? Why would ye want to…"

"I didn't ask for your opinion," the warrior said coldly. "I'll want that done when I get back, too. How much?"

The blacksmith nodded slightly. "Twenty." Tara paid him and jerked her head in silent thanks. Without another word, she turned and left the smithy, gesturing to Epona as she went. The slave followed meekly.

Horse trading was a pleasure that Tara hadn't had the opportunity to indulge in for a long time. For close to half an hour she simply wandered through the market, looking over the selection. Finally she gave a nod and moved back to where Epona was quietly waiting, her small hand closed tightly on Ruskin's reins. "This way," she said brusquely. The dark-haired girl followed her without comment to the corral she'd chosen.

The trader – a dark-haired man wearing a battered, wide-brimmed hat – leaned against the corral gate and eyed Tara as she approached. "Looking to get yourself a new mount, little lady?" he asked. "Or are you just wanting me to take that little carthorse off your hands?"

"A little of both, actually," Tara said calmly. Her gaze moved to the beast that had caught her eye – a massive, black warhorse. _He's got to be eighteen hands high at the shoulder, if he's an inch. _She kept her expression mild. "How much for that one?" she asked casually. A shrewd look came into his eyes.

They haggled for some time. At one point, the huge beast was caught and led to where Tara stood. The warrior felt his smooth hide, and the hard muscles beneath it; examined his hoofs, each one smooth and healthy; stroked his nose, and looked into the intelligent black eyes. She had trouble maintaining her appearance of nonchalance. In the end, though, it was worth the effort. She managed to buy the powerful gelding, along with all the needed harness, for a reasonable price.

When she finally turned back to her silent slave, she saw that Epona's eyes were full of awe. The slave stared up at the massive beast in appreciation. "He's beautiful, ma'am," she said softly. "I don't even think my father's horses were so beautiful."

"He's not bad," Tara agreed lightly, but couldn't help giving a bit of a grin. "Follow me. We'll get him set up back at the inn before we pick up my things at the blacksmith's." Epona nodded and fell into step behind, but not without another admiring look at her owner's new mount.

It was rather gratifying to see the awed looks on the faces of the stableboys at the inn when Tara gravely handed them the reins of her new horse. She smiled inwardly as she turned away. _Used to be that most people would look at me that way right off, _she mused. _Well, once I've got my new armor on, maybe I'll start looking a bit more like I did before that ambush. Then I'll have the look and the reputation both. _Her dark eyes flicked to the slave girl who was walking silently at her heels. _And having a little mouse to follow me around won't hurt any, either. _Tara grinned.

The smith looked up as the two women entered. Tara went to her pile of things and began to nonchalantly put the armor on. "Are you ready?" she asked him.

"Aye, soon as ye wish." The man gestured to his furnace; the door of it was slightly ajar, and Tara could see that the tips of several irons had been buried deep in amongst the glowing coals. She nodded calmly, fastening a buckle on her hauberk and taking up a piece of leg armor. "I have a few marks," the blacksmith said, "but I thought maybe you'd like this one best, warrior." He pulled one of the irons from the furnace and showed it to her. The tip of it glowed red with heat, but Tara could see that it was shaped like a small sword. She raised a brow and nodded her approval. "Thought as much. Would ye like it done now?"

"Yes, do it now," Tara said dismissively. "I've been on the road for a while, and I'm looking forward to some hot food and cold ale. No sense wasting time." She looked over at Epona, who had been listening to this exchange with obvious uncertainty. "Go to him," she ordered. "Don't make a scene."

The green eyes widened, and the slave began to tremble. "But…but ma'am, I…please, what have I done wrong?"

"Nothing. I just want you marked. Do as you're told." Tara paused in the act of fastening a strap at her ankle to fix the girl with a threatening glower. Epona paled. There was one more moment of hesitation before the slave slowly went to where the smith waited. "Mark her shoulder, please," the warrior said calmly, turning back to her task. "I don't want her face spoiled." She began to buckle the straps around her other leg. There was silence for a while, and then a couple of whimpers from Epona – and then, as Tara pulled on her bracers, the girl let out a piercing scream of pain. The warrior thrust on her helm, took up her new shield, and turned to look.

The blacksmith was just putting the iron into a nearby bucket of water. Steam billowed up in clouds. Epona was down on her knees at his feet, huddled into a ball. Her skinny shoulders were shaking with sobs. As Tara watched, he stooped down to pat Epona's back with his broad hand. "There now, lass. It's over," he said quietly. "You just take a minute, if you need one." She cringed away from his touch.

Tara approached and looked down at the weeping girl, her dark eyes thoughtful. The girl was still deathly pale and whimpering with pain. Tara eyed the angry red mark on the white shoulder; it had been cleanly done. She nodded. "Good." Reaching down, she grasped Epona's slender wrist and drew her to her feet. The slave wavered, and nearly fell; Tara held her steady. "Easy, now. You're all right."

"I'm g…gonna faint…" Epona's knees gave way. With a weary sigh, Tara slowly lowered her to the floor. Before she could ask, the blacksmith handed her a cup of water. The warrior jerked her head in thanks and stooped over the slave, rubbing at her cheeks until the green eyes opened again. "Ma'am…?" Epona muttered, with obvious confusion.

"Drink," Tara said tersely, and thrust the water into the girl's hands. "You passed out." Shivering, Epona sucked at the liquid. Some of the color returned to her white cheeks after a while. "Doing better?" The moss-green eyes looked up fearfully, and the dark head nodded. "Good. Up you get, then, and we'll go back to the inn. You'll feel better once we've had a good supper and a rest." She grasped Epona's upper arm and pulled her up. The smaller girl seemed a bit wobbly, and a little whimper still escaped her lips every now and then, but she trailed after her owner without a word of complaint.

Within half an hour, Tara was seated at a table at the inn, with a full plate of stew and a mug of cold ale before her. She ate with gusto. _Ah, just as good as I remember it, _she thought, with a burst of nostalgic affection. She hadn't had occasion to come by the town of Argos since well before the ambush, but she had pleasant memories of relaxing here with fellow mercenaries after long marches. She took a long pull at her mug, glancing to her left. Epona sat quietly in the corner, wrapped in Tara's gray cloak. She was picking quietly at her food; she still looked quite pale.

Tara waved to one of the tavern girls. "Another ale," she said shortly. One arrived a minute or so later, and the warrior plunked it before Epona, who looked up at her in faint puzzlement. "Arm still hurt?" The slave's lip quivered, and she nodded. "Drink that, then," Tara said calmly, turning back to her own supper. "Do you good. Eat, too. If it still bothers you after that, I've got some things upstairs in my pack that'll help."

She watched out of the corner of her eye as Epona slowly brought the mug to her lips and took a tentative taste. The wince and hesitation afterward confirmed Tara's suspicions. _Little mouse-girl's never even tasted beer before. Gods, what did they do – wrap her up in lamb's wool and keep her in a closet? _The warrior drained her own mug and sent it back for a refill. She noted that Epona kept sipping at her ale, and seemed to have decided that she liked it.

"Why, _Tara! _That is you, isn't it?" The voice rose above the buzz of the tavern crowd. The warrior turned in her seat to find a heavily-armored figure approaching her table. It was a short, compact woman with olive skin and dark brown hair. "Tara," the woman cried again, grinning. "Tara, the Terror of the West! How are you, you old warhorse? I've not seen you these three years!"

"Drea?" The red-haired woman rose from her seat to gravely clasp the forearm that was extended to her. "It's been a while. You haven't changed at all."

"Can't say the same for you, woman. Look at you!" Drea stepped back to look Tara over admiringly. "I swear you've actually got more muscle than when I last saw you. I didn't even think that was possible." She waved at a passing barmaid. "Hey, let's have a couple of pitchers, here." Without waiting for an invitation, she plunked herself down in an empty chair. "So what're you doing back in these parts?"

Tara sat back down. Her eyes were guarded. "Just trading for some supplies and things," she said calmly. "I'm resting up. Just came from a raid."

"I've been hearing some pretty crazy stories about you lately, Terror." The smaller soldier grinned as a mug of beer appeared before her. She picked it up, took a long drink from it, and waved it in Tara's direction. "Is it true you took out most of the town of Pylos by yourself last year? I heard some bard in Mykenea tell that story."

The red-headed warrior smiled thinly and tipped the rest of her ale down her throat. "More or less," she said. "I was with a raiding party, and they decided to retreat while I was trapped by myself inside the city. Kind of upset me. I guess I must have taken that out on the locals."

"Damn." Drea shook her head with an admiring smirk. "I swear, you've gotten even crazier than you used to be when we fought together. I wouldn't have thought you even could be." She thumped the table with her hand and drank off the rest of her first mug of ale in one gulp. "Great luck running into you! You looking for more work? There's a bunch of us looking to pull a job, and we need another fighter."

"Depends," Tara said coolly, pouring herself another glass of ale and taking a few more bites of her stew. "What's it pay?"

"Well, you won't lack for toast in the morning. It's…" The smaller warrior stopped abruptly, her eyes coming to rest on Epona's small frame. "Hey, who's your friend?"

"New slave." Tara chewed her mouthful of bread and stew absently. "Got her a couple days ago."

"Really?" Drea's brown eyes sparked with interest. "What's she look like?" And she reached across the table toward the gray hood that was pulled up around Epona's face.

Like a striking snake, Tara's hand flashed out, catching Drea's arm by the wrist. Her brows lowered over dark eyes that were suddenly cold. Startled, the smaller woman looked at her. "She's _mine." _Tara's voice was icy.

There was a tense pause. Drea stared at her uneasily, shifting in her seat, but didn't try to pull her arm away. "All right, Tara," she said quietly. "I'm not trying to take her. Just curious, that's all."

Slowly, Tara released her grip. She could see the wariness in Drea's face, and knew that she'd rather shocked her. _Maybe I kind of shocked myself, too, _Tara thought ruefully, turning her attention back to her half-finished supper. _I guess that was a bit of an overreaction. Gods, I need rest more than I thought. _"Fine," she said dismissively. "Quit hiding in my damn cloak, Epona."

The slave girl timidly pulled the gray hood back from her head and looked up at Drea. Tara's dark eyes flicked up to the smaller warrior's face. "So what's this job?" she asked coolly.

"Er…right." Drea glanced at Epona with obvious admiration, but quickly turned back to the conversation. Her voice lowered. "We've got word about a gold shipment being taken from Korinth to Megara. It'll be guarded, of course, but we figure we can take them out at that narrow pass just outside Korinth. It'll be a good amount of gold, Tara. And if you join in, there'll be twelve of us to split the proceeds – not bad pay for a day's work."

Tara's lips tightened. "When?"

"We figure to head out in four days." The smaller woman poured herself another mug of ale and grinned, resting one muscular arm on the tabletop. "Gives you time to rest up first, Terror." She paused. "So what d'you say? Are you in?"

The red-haired fighter tapped her fingers on the table. "Give me the night to think about it," she said calmly. "I'll give you my answer tomorrow, if you're around."

"I'm around." Drea nodded. "We're all staying in this inn, actually. Them's my boys over there." – Waving her arm in the direction of a large knot of disreputable-looking men. "They'll be glad enough to have you along, if you decide to come." Then she sat back in her seat with a casual air. "So tell me, Terror. What you been doing with yourself?"

They chatted for an hour or two. Tara had to admit that she rather enjoyed reminiscing about some of their old campaigns; she'd forgotten about a lot of it, what with the difficulties of the past couple of years. At last, Tara cast a glance at the corner. Epona was slumped down with her head resting against the back of her chair and her eyes closed. The warrior couldn't restrain a smirk. "Guess it's getting late," she said calmly. "We've put in a long couple days, and I think it's time for bed."

"All right, then," Drea said cheerfully. "Rest well. Me and the boys will be around whenever you decide you want to join up."

Tara's dark eyes followed her old acquaintance as she headed back across the tavern. Then, rising to her feet, she moved over to where Epona was. The slave murmured and shifted as the larger woman lifted her up; green eyes opened a crack. "Tired?" Tara asked, her lips twitching with amusement. Epona nodded silently. "All right. Let's go, then." And she carried the girl up the stairs that led to their room.

Epona yawned deeply as Tara laid her down on the bed. "Hurts...," she mumbled, only half awake.

"Arm's still a bit sore, huh?" The warrior calmly took off her new armor, laying it out carefully in a corner. Her dark eyes rested on the bed as she stripped off her outer clothes. "You're probably fine. I'll take another look at it in the morning."

The slave didn't shrink away, but her skin shivered as Tara began to undress her. Her eyes, a deep jade in the room's dim light, peered up at her fearfully. "Please, it…it'll hurt, ma'am…"

"No, it won't. I'll be careful of it." The warrior continued stripping her down, her strong hands brisk and efficient. "I've told you already – obey me, and you've got nothing to worry about. I'm not going to damage you for no good reason." She removed the last of the slave's clothing, tossing it aside with vague annoyance. Then, with a long, satisfied yawn, Tara stretched herself out on the bed and pulled Epona close. The girl's lips quivered against hers. "Mmm, 's'good," Tara mumbled, cupping the back of Epona's neck in her hand.

"Ma'am," Epona whispered. Tara heard her breath catch in her throat as the warrior's hand slid down over her bare hip. "I'm so tired. Please…"

"Just shut it," the larger woman muttered. "Not in the mood t'hear whining." She kissed the slave again, relishing the taste of the ale on her lips. Tara smirked against the girl's mouth. It was going to be a good night.


	5. Chapter 5

Something wasn't right.

Tara's eyes snapped open. Even when she was sleeping in a warm bed at an inn, her warrior's senses were sharp. _I heard something, _she thought, listening intently. Her fingertips brushed lightly against the hilt of the dagger she kept beneath her pillow as she waited and watched. The sound came again, and this time she heard it properly. It was a sob – a soft, plaintive little sound, and it had come from the girl in her bed.

Epona was curled up against her, with her lean back pressed up against Tara's abdomen; one of the warrior's arms was thrown possessively around the girl's waist. As Tara watched, she saw the slave bury her face into the pillow. The slim body quivered a few times. Another tiny, choked sob drifted up from the depths of the cushion.

_Bugger. Wonder if her arm's bothering her? _Tara was vaguely annoyed at having been awakened in the dead of night. She was about to say something, but something held her back. She paused and waited. After a minute or two, Epona's body shook again. A few more little sobs emerged, and then a name, spoken softly and tenderly, with infinite pain. "Marcella," the slave whispered. "Marcella…"

The warrior's brow creased. _Huh. It's not the brand that's paining her, then. _She thought she remembered Epona mentioning that some family member or other had been beheaded in front of her. _Yes, that'll be it. Marcella was probably her sister's name._

Tara suddenly felt unaccountably awkward. She frowned a bit, trying to make sense of the feeling. _If this were Clytie, I'd have just told her to shut up. I'd probably have yelled at her for waking me up, too. _Her lips tightened. _Maybe it's just not necessary to be that harsh with this one. Epona's never shown any sign of defiance…yes, that's what it is. I just don't see a need to be severe with her. _Without speaking, Tara slipped her other arm around Epona's body.

The slave stiffened in her arms, twisting her head around to look at her. Tara could see the moisture on Epona's cheeks in the moonlight. "I'm sorry, ma'am," the girl whispered contritely. "I didn't mean to wake you."

Quietly, Tara turned the girl's body in her arms until they lay face-to-face. "I'll forgive you this time," she said calmly. "Does your brand still hurt?"

Epona's eyes lowered. "A…a little," she admitted.

Tara's expression didn't change. "Homesick?"

The slave's enormous eyes raised up to meet her owner's again. Tara saw her throat move as she swallowed. "I suppose so," she murmured. "I miss my…sister." Epona looked frightened as soon as she'd said it, as if she expected to be punished for it.

Without a word, Tara leaned forward to kiss the slave's mouth. She moved slowly, dropping soft kisses up Epona's jawline to her ear. Then she stopped and lay still. "Homesickness wears off," she said gruffly. "Give it time." The smaller girl nodded and buried her forehead into Tara's shoulder. A plaintive little sob or two shook her. Tara's awkward feeling grew; she scowled, but said nothing. After a while, the slave's slight form relaxed. The warrior looked at her – Epona was asleep again.

_Thank the gods. _With a wide yawn, Tara rested her head back down on her pillow and closed her eyes.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Sunlight was already streaming in the window, but Tara had no intention of getting up. The aches and pains left by long days of fighting and sleeping on the bare ground were beginning to loosen up; she felt warm and comfortable. She smiled up at the ceiling and relished the feeling of soft, clean sheets against her skin. Then, too, there was the gentle warmth of her slave's body cuddled up at her side.

Tara peered down at Epona with idle interest. The curly head was nestled against the warrior's muscular shoulder; the girl's slim form was curved close to hers. Epona tended to snuggle in her sleep, like a puppy. Tara studied her in silence. In the course of her travels over the years, she'd been all over these eastern kingdoms – even the great empire of Romus, the most powerful of them all. She'd seen statues there of famous nobles and queens and emperors. Tara thought that her little slave girl, with her well-formed features and her mop of dark hair, rather resembled some of those busts. _Hm, hm. I bet you're not pure Argonian, little mouse – not with skin as pale as yours. There'll be some high-ranking Romusi in your background. _Tara smiled a bit and moved a stray curl from the girl's cheek.

The movement disturbed the tranquility of Epona's face. She murmured, scowling a little, and buried her forehead into Tara's shoulder. The warrior smirked. Leaning down, she brushed her lips lightly over the ear that peeked out from amongst the dark curls, and nipped along its delicate rim. "Good morning," she murmured, chuckling as she heard a halfhearted growl emerge from the hidden throat. "Sleep well?"

"Yes'm." Epona turned her head to peer up at Tara with one sleepy eye. "Morning already?"

"Mmm-hmm." Tara idly wound one of the black locks around her finger. "I'm not in any great hurry to go anywhere, though." The slave girl sighed and closed her eyes again. "I think we should just spend the day here," Tara said lazily. "I could use the rest, and I'm sure we could find some way to spend the time." Her hand snaked under the covers and slid down to rest in the hollow just above Epona's hipbone. "What do you think?"

The dark head dropped demurely. "If you like, ma'am."

Tara smirked. _That's what I like to hear. _She idly tugged on another of Epona's dark curls. "So tell me, _beag luch_. I'm curious. Who was the Romusi – your mother, or your father?"

Epona glanced up at her. "My mother was Romusi," she said simply. "Political alliance." Then she frowned a little. "What does _beag luch_ mean, please?"

The warrior paused. The word had simply slipped out – she hadn't actually meant to say it out loud. She felt faintly embarrassed. "Oh. That." Tara scratched her nose. "It's a word in my native tongue. It means _little mouse," _she said.

A small, sad smile flitted briefly over Epona's face. Even that tiny glimpse intrigued Tara; she hadn't yet seen the slave smile. It had softened the sculpted face and warmed the moss-green of her eyes. The smaller girl reached up to brush a fingertip against a lock of her owner's fiery red hair. "You're not Argonian at all, right, ma'am? You're from the west."

"Gaelis," Tara confirmed. "But it's not home, not anymore. I've not seen the place in more than a decade, now."

"That's too bad," Epona said softly. Her small fingers continued their absentminded toying with Tara's hair. "How come you never go back? Don't you miss it?"

"What's to miss?" Tara asked coldly. Something welled up in her, then – something like recklessness. She gave an icy smile and brushed the backs of her knuckles gently against Epona's cheek. "I'll tell you a story, _beag luch_. It happened in my country. There was a little girl born there to a no-good whore, the town drunk. Every morning the whore would throw her daughter out into the street and lock up the house, and then go to the pub to find men to buy her whiskey. And every night, the little girl would go back to her house to see if her mother would come home. Sometimes her mother didn't, so the little girl would sleep in the street. Sometimes her mother did – and when she did, she was usually drunk, and she would beat the little girl black and blue."

The warrior paused in her story and sat up, fumbling under the bed for her pack. When she found it, she pulled out a pipe and a tobacco pouch. Epona watched silently as Tara filled the pipe, lit it, and breathed out a cloud of fragrant smoke. "That little girl learned how to steal, and how to fight," Tara went on. "And as she grew up, she found out that she was very good at fighting. She was stronger and faster than people who were older and bigger than she was. She fought a lot – and sometimes she lost, but most of the time she won." The warrior took another draw from her pipe. "One day, when the girl was fifteen, she won a fight against a man who was trying to take away the money she'd stolen that day. Afterwards, it suddenly occurred to her that the man she'd just beaten up was bigger than her mother was."

Epona's eyes widened. She stared up at Tara, but still said nothing. The red-haired warrior smirked. "So the girl went home. It was locked, of course; so she kicked the door in, and went inside and waited for her mother to come back." Tara paused, turning her dark eyes to the window. "Her mother came home a little after midnight, full of whiskey," she said quietly. "She hit the girl – so the girl beat her to a bloody pulp, and then she left. She left her there on the floor, _beag luch._ Her own mother. She didn't even know if she was dead or alive, but she never looked back." She took a deep breath of smoke and blew it out slowly. Her brown eyes moved down to meet Epona's again. "What kind of a monster do you suppose she became when she grew up?"

There was silence for a moment. Then Epona laid her head back against Tara's body; her slim hand rested gently on the warrior's belly. "I'm so sorry," she whispered.

Tara flinched. The wave of recklessness had passed as suddenly as it had come. She shoved the slave away from her with a movement that was almost violent. "Don't be a fool," she growled. "It was just a damn story." Tara turned to glower out the window again. "Go downstairs and bring me up a breakfast tray," she ordered. "And don't dawdle about it, either!" She heard the rustle of cloth as Epona dressed, and then the soft sound of the door opening and closing. With a burst of temper, Tara turned and flung her pipe after her; it bounced off the door and clattered against the floorboards.

Some of the tension had passed out of Tara's muscles by the time Epona returned, staggering under the weight of a tray that contained a large platter of eggs, sausage and bread, an empty mug, and a steaming teapot. The slave girl managed to place it on the bedside table without dropping anything. Without a word, Epona poured Tara's tea, and then sat down on the edge of the bed. The warrior watched silently as the slave first took a sip, and then handed her the cup.

Tara took it and drank a few mouthfuls. Then she looked at Epona; the smaller girl was watching her timidly. Tara felt a rush of irritation. _My own damn fault, _the warrior thought ruefully. _Letting my guard down like that…what was I thinking? _"We won't speak of that story again," Tara said coldly. "Is that understood?"

"I understand, ma'am," the slave softly agreed.

"Good." The warrior gestured. "Strip, and get back in this bed." Without a word, Epona obeyed. Tara put her arm around the slim waist and pulled her up until she was almost sitting in her lap. She felt better; she patted Epona's belly. "Go ahead and have a sausage if you like," she said, and her tone was almost kind. "You're probably hungry, too." The slave hesitated before taking one. Tara relaxed, resting her head against the headboard behind her, and nibbled at her breakfast. Once again, she was looking forward to the long and lazy day ahead.


	6. Chapter 6

It had been a very comfortable day, Tara thought contentedly, letting a yawn expand her ribs. She was sitting propped up against some pillows and the headboard, dressed only in her short leather breeches. Epona was lying on top of her, between her knees, with her dark head resting against her chest. Her eyes were closed; she seemed to be dozing. Tara smirked. Her fingers drifted up to toy with a few stray curls until the moss-green eyes opened again. "Comfy?" the warrior asked mildly.

"Yes, ma'am," Epona murmured.

"Need more salve on that burn?" Tara asked.

Epona shook her head. "It's good. It stings a bit, but it's all right." There was silence for a while. Tara felt small fingers trail gently up and down her side. "Are you going to go with that woman, ma'am?"

"Maybe," the warrior said lazily. "Drea and I go way back. She's the one who gave me my first Argonian sword." She reached over to the bedside table for her pipe. The room was already hazy with fragrant smoke, Tara noted. She blew out another cloud of it with a deep sigh of satisfaction. "You know, I was about your age during our heyday together," she said, grinning at the recollection. "We were both insane. The messes we got into together! Heh."

Curious eyes flicked up to Tara's. "Like what?"

Tara raised a brow, and then roughly ruffled Epona's hair. "You want to hear war stories, is that it? Do I look like a bard to you?" The slave winced and shrank away visibly. Tara chuckled. "I'm not much of a storyteller. Drea and I, though – we were crazy. I remember one time we sneaked away from camp to try to pull a raid by ourselves. We hit what we thought was a little merchant caravan. Turned out it was some nobleman's retinue, guarded by at least a dozen soldiers! We only just got away with our hides intact. I got a souvenir." Tara tapped a ragged scar that ran over the top of her right shoulder. "One of them pegged me with a crossbow. Went right under my shoulder plate. It was a good thing I wore a mail shirt underneath, or I'd have been dead right there."

Epona ran the tips of her fingers over the scar. Her eyes were round with amazement. "You're very brave," she said softly.

"That wasn't courage. That was stupidity." Tara grinned nevertheless. "I guess I haven't really changed all that much since then. I'm a bit smarter in the kinds of risks I take, but…there's just something about battle, somehow. I just suddenly forget all my aches and pains, and all the horrors of war, and I start laughing, and…_ah." _She breathed a deep sigh. "I just feel like a force of nature, or a goddess. It's as if the Morrigan really did take my blood."

The slave looked up in puzzlement. "Who took your what?"

"The Morrigan," Tara repeated calmly. "She's the goddess of war in Gaelis." She took another breath of smoke. "I was always a fighter, little mouse. I joined the army when I was fifteen years old, but I got kicked out three months later for being a discipline problem. That's when I decided to come to Argonia. I'd heard a fighter with a sword could find easy work here." Tara set her pipe down carefully. "Before I left, though, I figured I could use all the help I could get. There's this mountain near the town where I grew up, and on top of it is a ring of stones. There's some priestesses up there. The place is dedicated to the Morrigan."

"A temple." Epona's delicate fingers were still tracing the outline of the scar on the warrior's shoulder. Tara decided it was an agreeable sensation.

"No. Temples are an Argonian thing. –Well, and Romusi. Gaels are different." Tara noted the curve of Epona's jaw. She lazily drew her thumb along it, enjoying the smooth texture of her skin. "We have sacred trees, stones, hills – things like that."

"Oh." A faint blush colored the slave's cheek at the intensity of Tara's gaze. She looked down, shivering as the warrior's hand trailed down the side of her neck and along the sharp line of her collarbone.

"Anyway, I went up there and told them I wanted to pledge my life and my sword to the Morrigan," Tara murmured. "They did this big long ritual with fire and water and things, and then they cut my hand and let it bleed over a sacred stone." She displayed a paper-thin scar across the palm of her right hand. Small fingers curiously investigated it. "They told me that I already carried the Morrigan's birthright, and now I truly belonged to her. I wound up staying there for a couple of days. Got my tattoo from one of the priestesses."

Epona traced the blue mark on the side of Tara's neck. "It's a bird."

"A raven," the warrior confirmed. "Sacred bird of the goddess. They eat the bodies after a battle's over, you know." Epona shuddered deeply, and Tara smirked. _Little frightened mouse. _"So that's what I mean about the blood."

The slave chewed her lip thoughtfully. "We have warlords here in Argonia," she said softly. "They're disciples of Ares. They say he can possess them in battle, and that's why they're so strong and deadly." Her slender hands brushed the muscles that rippled like steel ropes across Tara's arm. "Are you like that?"

"Hm. Maybe." Tara shrugged, watching the slave's hands with idle enjoyment. "I don't exactly worship the Morrigan or anything. I don't pray to her. But every time I fight, I'm kind of fulfilling my vows to her. And I don't really know what being possessed feels like, so who knows? Maybe she does possess me in battle." She leaned back as Epona's fingers began to explore the hard lines of her abs. "You seem to be losing some of your shyness," she remarked.

Epona stopped abruptly and blushed to the roots of her hair. "I'm sorry, ma'am," she said humbly. "Please don't be angry! I didn't mean…"

"I didn't say I didn't like it." Tara shot her a rakish grin. The slave blushed harder, and buried her face into the pillow. The warrior chuckled and drew the quilt up to cover more of Epona's bare skin.

After a moment, the slave girl seemed to recover some of her lost composure. She peeped out of the pillow. "What…please, ma'am, what will you do with me if you do go with those people?"

"Bring you along, of course," Tara said lightly. "You'd be one of the camp followers. We have people to cook and things, and bring us supplies on the battlefield. That kind of thing. And I'm certainly not the only mercenary ever to have a slave." She rubbed Epona's naked back idly. "So tell me something," she said. "You say you were a noble's daughter, but you seem to be adjusting to being my slave pretty easily. Why is that?"

The girl looked at her out of the corner of her eye. She seemed to be choosing her words carefully. "I guess it's not all that different from what I would have been doing, anyway," Epona said finally. Her voice was very quiet. "I'd have been married off to some man I'd never met, and I'd be cooking and cleaning for him. I'd have had to sleep with him whether I wanted to or not. It isn't so very different with you, ma'am…except that you're a woman, of course. And that my family's dead."

Tara nodded thoughtfully. "That's probably true." She slid her palm down from Epona's shoulders to the small of her back. _I'd like to take her again, _she thought, glancing at the window. The sun was setting; Tara sighed. _No. No time now. It'll have to wait. _"I think it's about time for supper," she said out loud. "Put your clothes on – we're going downstairs to eat. I have to talk to Drea, anyway." Epona bowed her head and did as she was told. Tara dressed herself in full armor. She strapped her sword to her side, and then paused to eye her shield. _Nah – no need for it. _She turned to the door, glancing toward the boyish figure of her slave. "Come," she said shortly, and headed down the stairs.

It wasn't hard to spot the mercenaries; their party took up nearly a third of the inn's pub. Tara calmly made her way to an empty table on the opposite side of the tavern, and then flagged down a barmaid. "Supper and ale for two," she said. Epona quietly slipped into an empty seat. Tara grinned and pulled up a chair for herself.

As Tara had expected, there was soon movement over at the mercenaries' tables. Drea and their supper arrived at the same time. The dark-skinned warrior straddled a chair in a businesslike manner, folding her arms over the back of it. "Hey, Terror. Enjoying your stay so far?"

"Fair," Tara said, coolly meeting Drea's gaze for a moment. Then she took a leisurely bite of the bread and cheese the barmaid had brought her. "Soft bed, decent food, cold ale. Not bad for a change every now and then."

"I know the feeling." The smaller warrior shifted in her seat, seemingly waiting for something. Tara merely gave her a mild look and resumed eating her supper. Drea finally sighed impatiently. "Well? Have you given any thought to coming with us?"

Tara took a long sip of ale. "I've thought a bit." She glanced over at Epona, who was listening in silence. "You can eat, you know." The slave looked a bit startled; she quickly began to nibble on her supper. Tara hid a smile.

"And…?" Drea prompted.

"And I'd like to know exactly what the plan is. You know – my position, what you'd expect of me – that sort of thing." The redhead rested her chin on her hand.

Drea nodded. "Oh. Right. Of course." She scratched her nose awkwardly. "Well, it's like this. See, I'm sort of leading this outfit, so I can bring you in if I like, but…well, you being who you are, I can't just bring you in as muscle. Waste of your potential, and all. I'd more or less be bringing you on with an eye toward making you my second. Not right away, of course, but you'd be in some kind of leadership role."

"I thought as much." Tara ate a few more placid mouthfuls. "So I'll have to do the standard beat-and-intimidate thing right off the bat, to get their respect. And you'll want my help with organizing and strategy and whatnot, right?"

"That's right," Drea said.

"I see." The larger woman sat back in her chair until it creaked under the strain. She took a long, deliberate drink from her mug before catching Drea's eyes with her own. "If that's the case, I want more than a twelfth of the take. I want a tenth, plus my choice of any weapons, armor or horses we capture."

Drea hesitated for a moment. "Done," she said flatly. "You're worth it."

Tara grinned and stuck out her hand. "Then you've got yourself a redheaded second-in-command."

"Wonderful!" Drea clasped her forearm and returned the grin. "I'll go and warn the boys. Welcome to the team, you old warhorse. I'm looking forward to riding with you again."

Tara was well pleased. She shot her slave girl a smirk as Drea headed back across the tavern. "This'll be fun," she said. "I haven't had a good rough-and-tumble, teach-'em-who's-boss role in years." Epona nodded wordlessly. Her moss-green eyes were wide and anxious. "Oh, relax," Tara said with a grin. "I can take on that bunch, no problems." With that, she returned her attention to her supper. The slave quietly followed suit.

It really had been a long time since she had led a group of fighters. Tara had to admit that she really was looking forward to it. She sipped her ale and let herself dream of the days when she had traveled with Drea. Her lips curved upward. _Yes, this'll be good. I think I'm actually looking forward to it._


	7. Chapter 7

It was a beautiful day for riding, Tara thought cheerfully, her eyes sweeping the road ahead. She was in a very good mood, despite the fact that she was once again traveling with a group instead of by herself. _There are compensations, _she thought. _The money will be good. And I suppose it's nice to be traveling with Drea again. _She glanced ahead at the armored back of the woman in question. _Heh, listen to me. I'm getting all sentimental in my old age._

The lean body in her arms shifted back against her. Tara looked down with an indulgent smile. She'd bought a decent cloak and a pair of durable boots for Epona, and she thought the girl wore them well. Tara leaned her head down to nibble lightly on the side of her slave's neck. "Nervous?" she purred.

"Yes, ma'am," Epona said softly. "This…isn't this really dangerous? I mean, all these…" She glanced at a scruffy-looking man riding to their right, and shuddered.

Tara grinned. "They aren't nearly as dangerous as your owner, you know," she said. "You'll be safe enough as long as you keep me happy." She slid upward to capture an earlobe between her lips and flick it with her tongue. "But you shouldn't find that too difficult. I've been very pleased with you so far." Epona's body quivered under her touch.

"Tara." The warrior looked up to see Drea looking at her. "C'mon up here a minute." Tara dug her heels into her horse's flanks and moved forward until their mounts were plodding alongside each other. "Listen," Drea said calmly, "I've told the boys that you're coming along to lend some extra muscle, but I think a few of them have guessed at what we've got in mind. They might give you a bit of trouble."

The redhead nodded coolly. "Well, we expected that. It's nothing I can't handle." She eyed Drea. "How much leeway have I got?"

"As much as you need," the dark-skinned woman shrugged. "Just try to leave enough of us alive and unharmed so we can still take down that caravan, all right?"

"I'll see what I can do," Tara chuckled. She felt Epona shiver and shrink down in her arms.

Drea's brown eyes moved down to the slave. "So what's the deal with her, anyway? You buy her somewhere?"

"Nah. She was part of my price to help some two-bit soldier take a town. The guy thinks he's a warlord." Tara's contemptuous smirk left no doubt as to her opinion on that score. "I picked her out myself."

"Good choice," Drea commented. Her dark eyes rested appreciatively on Epona. "Pretty little thing." Tara's jaw tightened perceptibly; the smaller warrior gave a soft huff of laughter. "Oh, come on. I can't notice your slave's a cutie? You know me. Women and wine, remember?"

Tara nodded grimly. Her face had gone noticeably cold. "As long as the women and wine are _yours, _I've got no problem with that."

Drea's dark eyes sparkled with laughter. "Aw, you're not sharing your candy?" She thrust out her lower lip in an exaggerated pout. "Not even a little nibble, Terror? Just a little bite?" The larger woman glared at her stonily, and Drea chuckled. "All right, all right. Hackles down, tiger. I wouldn't touch her without your permission, I'm just teasing you. Think I'm tired of living?"

"Maybe." Tara's tone was cool, but her expression softened a bit. There might even have been a faint twinkle in her eyes. "If you ever are, I can help you out with that."

"Don't I know it?" The dark-skinned woman laughed easily. "I'm pretty sure you could snap me in half with your bare hands." She glanced back at the mercenaries riding behind her. "Just try to keep that under your helm, though, hey? I can do without being twitted about it."

"I'll think about it." The redhead returned her attention to the road, with a barely-noticeable twitch at the corners of her lips. "So how'd you wind up as the leader of this group, anyway? When I left, you were still riding around after Vasilus. Did he decide to give up the war game, or did you just strike out on your own?"

Drea rubbed her horse's pommel absently. "Bit of both. I guess you didn't hear. Vasilus is dead." Tara raised a brow, and Drea nodded. "It's true. About six months after you left, we were attacking this little settlement west of here, and he took an arrow between the plates of his armor. Pierced his lungs – he bled out on the battlefield." Tara felt Epona shrink against her. "A lot of the boys decided to leave after that. I managed to claw my way into leading the rest of 'em, and here we are."

"Huh." Tara shifted her shoulders a bit, settling her shield more firmly on her back. "Well, he was pushing forty-five. That's getting up there, for a warlord."

The smaller warrior grimaced. "Aye. Isn't that the truth?" She glanced down at her own hands. "Not much chance of getting old in our business. Guts and glory, gold and grit, and fall in battle. And if you're lucky, some bard might make up a song about it."

This made Tara laugh. "Well, I've already reached the pinnacle of my career, in that case," she said. "I swear I don't know why the bards always pick on _me_ to sing about lately. You'd think I was the only person riding around Argonia raiding villages, to hear them talk." She cast Drea a sidelong glance. "Maybe it's the red hair."

"That, and the fact that you're bloody ruthless." Drea grinned. "I'm just glad you're on my team, Terror. I'd hate to wind up on the wrong end of that blade of yours." The larger woman favored her with a cool smile. "You still toss boulders around every morning?"

"Yes," Tara said calmly. "And if you were smart, you would, too. That's how I build strength. Plain sword drills don't do that." She displayed one powerful arm, flexing to show the cords of knotted muscle. "And I run, of course. But you know that – you used to come with me."

The dark-skinned woman shook her head with a rueful smile. "Trail after you and puff into camp half an hour after you did, you mean," she said. "We both know you've got more than just muscle. You've heard what they're saying about you, haven't you?" Brown eyes glinted curiously. "You know, about Ares being your dearest daddy."

Tara snorted. "Ridiculous. I'm not even Argonian." She glanced at Drea and raised her brows slightly. "I hope you're not going to start some kind of bardic hero-worship thing with me, are you?"

"Nah. I know better. I've seen you drunk." Drea made a sound suspiciously like a giggle. "I can't speak for anyone else, though."

This brought a wicked smile to Tara's face. "The others can worship me all they like," she said. "Might even be safer for them if they do." She patted the thigh of the young woman riding before her. "Right, Epona?" The slave girl made a soft sound of agreement. Tara slipped her hand underneath the girl's tunic to rest in its favorite spot on the flat belly. She felt Epona lean back against her, and smirked.

The group rode all day long, with only a brief stop to eat and water the horses at around noon. They finally stopped about an hour before sunset. The mercenaries dispersed and began to set up camp with great efficiency. Tara sent Epona to help the camp followers while she and Drea set up the tent in which they would be sleeping. Even though it had been three years since Tara had done this sort of work, her hands still remembered their old skill. By the time darkness fell, the camp was finished, and the camp followers were preparing supper over a roaring fire at the center of it.

Tara sat down heavily on a log near the fire. Her dark eyes soon found the slender form of her slave. Epona was stirring a steaming pot and chatting shyly with an older woman to her left. From how the other camp followers were acting, Tara guessed that Epona was fitting in quite well. She nodded her approval as she fumbled at her side for her pipe. _Good girl, little mouse. _The pungent smell of tobacco soon joined that of the cooking food.

When the meal was ready, the mercenaries gathered around the fire to receive their portions. Tara watched as Epona approached with a bowl and a small loaf of bread. She grinned lazily when the food was laid into her hands. "Thanks," she drawled. "Glad I don't have to tell you what to do." Epona nodded, and Tara waved a hand. "Go get some for yourself, too." Then, as the slave obeyed, the warrior inspected the food. It seemed to be a stew of some sort, and there was olive oil drizzled on the bread. Tara began to eat with gusto; being outdoors again had strengthened her appetite.

Epona soon returned, and knelt down at her feet to eat her own supper. Tara felt a profound contentment. _Good food, fresh air, an old friend, and a new adventure. I don't know of any better recipe for happiness. _She reached down to grasp Epona's arm lightly, and pulled her over until she was kneeling between her owner's feet. Then, with a rough caress of the curly head, Tara let go. The slave quietly stayed where she had been put.

There had been a period of silence as the mercenaries and their servants ate. Now pockets of conversation began to open up. Tara watched her new companions in silence as she finished her supper. Some were ignoring her, but she noticed a group of five men to the right of the fire who were casting her dark looks. Her warrior senses perked up, and she felt a subtle thrill go through her muscles. Outwardly, Tara still looked relaxed, even half asleep – but she was alert. _Something's going to happen here soon, _she thought. _I suppose I'd better get ready. _

"Epona." The slave looked up from the last few bites of her meal. "Move behind me. You can finish your supper behind this log, all right?" Epona's eyes showed her perplexity at these instructions, but she did as she was told. Tara made a show of yawning and folding her arms casually. Her fingertips brushed the hilt of her sword.

Soon, there was movement. The group of men she'd noticed got up and approached her; an uneasy silence fell over the camp. Tara was conscious of Drea's presence on the other side of the fire, but she didn't look at her. Instead, she looked up calmly to meet the gaze of the young man who was evidently the ringleader of the smaller group. He looked about twenty years old, and had the large, rounded muscles of a naturally strong man. He stepped forward, stopping about three feet from where Tara was sitting, and folded his arms across his chest. "So you're that Gael wench that everyone's been talking about." He looked her over with a faint sneer. "You don't look like much."

Tara looked at him mildly. "My name," she said, "is Tara."

His sneer grew. "You think you can just waltz in here and take over, huh?"

The woman's eyes chilled to ice, but her demeanor didn't change. "I would imagine that's up to Drea," she said coolly. "She's the one who hired me on."

With a low growl, the young man jerked a heavy mace from his belt. "Well, we don't need your kind here," he snarled. "I ain't worked this hard just so's some redheaded Gael bitch can sashay in and tell me what to do!" His boot made a sudden motion, and a small cloud of dirt flew up into Tara's face. There was a blur of movement. In the space of a heartbeat, Tara was on her feet, snarling, her blade in her hand. One of the servant girls screamed; in the frozen silence that followed, the young man's headless body collapsed into the dust. A man uttered a muffled curse.

Slowly, Tara straightened up, drawing her bloodied sword into a defensive position as her icy eyes raked the remaining mercenaries. She looked every inch the daughter of the war god. "Would anyone else care to test my qualifications?" she asked, her tone very even. The silence was deafening. Tara's gaze moved deliberately from one fighter to the next – every eye dropped before hers. At length, she stooped down, very deliberately cleaned her weapon on the dead man's shirt, and sheathed it. "Good," she said. "In that case, I'll be in my tent if anyone wants me." She turned on her heel. "Come, Epona." The girl, who had been staring at her with bugging eyes and slack jaw, now scrambled to obey.

The darkness and relative peace of the tent was a welcome change. Tara calmly spread out her bedroll, slipping her dagger beneath the head of it. Then she discarded her shield and sprawled herself out with a sigh of contentment. "C'mere," she said, crooking her finger at her wide-eyed slave. Epona hesitated. Then, slowly, the small girl crept to where her owner lay. Tara pulled her down into her arms, cradling her slim body between her knees. She could feel Epona trembling. "Shocked you a bit, hey?"

There was silence for a moment. "You…y-you…" Epona's voice was choked. "You just killed him. He…his head…"

The warrior stroked her fingers through the dark curls that had tumbled across her chest, her lips curved in faint amusement. "Yes, I did. And you watch – I won't get a peep of opposition after this." The slave girl shuddered deeply. Tara gave a low chuckle and kissed the top of Epona's head. "You'll get used to these things, _beag luch. _Get some sleep. It'll be another long day tomorrow."

The tent flap opened. Tara had a brief glimpse of Drea's profile before it closed again, plunging the tent back into darkness. There was a pause. "Well," came the dark-skinned warrior's wry voice, "I guess you won't have too much trouble with the boys after that little scene."

"Nope." Tara grinned up into the blackness, her hand still threading idly through her slave's soft hair. "I won't."

There was some shuffling, and then a grunt of satisfaction as Drea lay down. "Thanks for leaving the rest of 'em alive."

Tara chuckled darkly. "No problem." Then silence fell. In time, even the murmurs of conversation from outside the tent ceased, and the camp sank into the stillness of night.


	8. Chapter 8

Epona's eyes slowly blinked open. A moment later, she wished that they hadn't.

She'd been dreaming of her older sister, and for the first time since that horrible raid, it hadn't been a nightmare. She'd been with her at home, and they'd been talking and laughing together. It had been sweet, and Epona had been happy. The raid, her sister's death – everything had been just a nightmare, and everything had been all right.

The slave squeezed her eyes shut, fighting back tears. She was lying half on top of the powerful woman who now owned her, with her head pillowed on a muscular shoulder. Two strong arms were wrapped around her body, pinning her in place; Epona couldn't have moved if she'd tried. She didn't dare to try.

It had all happened so quickly, she still couldn't really fathom it all. It still seemed like a dizzying blur. _It was just an ordinary night, _Epona thought numbly. _It was just…we ate supper, and I was thinking about going to bed…would've been my harp lesson the next day. And then the screams, and the fire, and…and…_

And running. And roaring, armored figures disgorged by the darkness, as deadly and horrifying as the monsters in the books she so loved to read. Epona couldn't even remember where she and Marcella had run; she'd been so terrified that she couldn't even see straight. And then a big bear of a man had loomed out of the blackness before them. She could remember the firelight glinting off well-oiled chain mail, and blazing eyes under a black helm, and a cowl of wolf fur. Epona had screamed and frozen in abject terror. The armored figure had raised a huge battle-axe. She remembered her sister's shriek as it fell. Then she'd been spattered with Marcella's blood. There she had stood, staring down at her sister's headless body, numb with shock.

Someone – Epona still didn't know who – had grabbed her by the back of her tunic a few minutes later and dragged her over to a huddled group of prisoners.

_Marcella. _The slave girl choked on the lump in her throat, and felt a couple of tears escape. Her closest friend. Her protector.

Epona thought back over the short years of her life. Marcella had taught her how to ride their pony, she remembered. If she closed her eyes, she could almost feel the older girl's steadying hand on the small of her back, and the warm glow the new achievement had given her. She could picture Marcella's laughing brown eyes as she'd slipped some little sweetmeat into Epona's small hand at bedtime. She remembered the comforting warmth of her sister's arms around her as they'd snuggled together in front of the fire on winter evenings with cups of warm apple cider.

There were darker memories, too. Epona could see her father's face, twisted in a fury that she couldn't understand, and feel the pain of the kicks. Marcella had been there, too…she'd always been there. Epona could almost hear her voice shouting, and see her thrusting herself between them, taking the blows for her. There had been quiet times afterward, too, when Marcella would have to go to bed for a while, and Epona would wash her bruises for her. Sometimes she would even crawl into bed with her. That had usually made Marcella cry, although Epona had understood that those were good tears.

Epona swallowed hard. She felt the arms holding her shift a bit; her gaze flicked up to the face of the woman holding her, but the warrior didn't wake. The slave let out her breath slowly in relief, and gingerly let her head rest against the woman's body again.

She didn't quite know what to make of Tara yet. The first she'd seen of her was about two seconds before her powerful hand had closed on her arm and yanked her to her feet. That first impression had been frightening – a massive woman, taller than any woman she'd ever seen in her life, with brown eyes as cold as ice and flame-red hair. She was white, too. Her skin was nearly as pale as Epona's, which was unusual.

Tara had been rough, and very brusque. She'd reminded Epona a little of her mother, although she'd certainly never been worried that her mother would kill her. That resemblance had been shattered for Epona the second night, though.

The night that Tara had first…touched her.

That had been almost a week ago, Epona realized. She'd gotten…well, perhaps it would be going too far to say that she'd gotten used to it now, but at least it didn't make her want to throw up anymore. She glanced down at herself ruefully. Her body was twined with that of her captor beneath the sleeping fur. It was…strange.

She supposed that it was just the fact that Tara was a woman that made it strange to her, though. Epona knew about slavery, and what a slave would have to expect. No matter which of her captors had claimed her, she knew that she would have been obliged to warm someone's bed – it just hadn't ever occurred to her that she might have to warm the bed of another female. Her brow creased. How unusual was this kind of thing, she wondered? She'd never heard of it before. But then, it wasn't as if she'd had much experience in life, either.

The woman was an enigma. On the one hand, she was tremendously strong, and she seemed to delight in frightening and tormenting Epona sometimes. On the other, Tara could be surprisingly gentle, too, and there had been many moments when she'd been inexplicably tender. Like last night – the sudden, shocking ferociousness of her attack on the man she'd beheaded, and then the great gentleness as she'd run her long fingers through Epona's hair.

Epona didn't understand her at all.

The slave thought back to their time at the inn, to the story that Tara had told her about the little girl in Gael. Whatever Tara said about it, Epona had known she'd been talking about herself. Epona pondered it for a moment, comparing it to her own experience. What if she hadn't had Marcella? What if she'd been alone, and had to take all those beatings herself, and hadn't had anyone to help her? _I think I'd be angry, _Epona mused. _I'd be really angry, and maybe I'd have run away, too. But I'm not strong and brave like Tara. I'd have maybe been a pickpocket, and been hanged for it._ All the same, Epona thought that maybe she could understand why Tara was as brutal as she was.

But then, why the tenderness? Did Tara like her, or didn't she? Epona frowned into the darkness. She was pretty sure that the warrior didn't really care what she thought about anything, one way or the other. What Tara wanted, she took. But there were those moments, too, when the brown eyes would soften, and the touch of the callused fingers would gentle, and Epona could almost swear that there was affection in both.

She still wouldn't trust those hands not to snap her neck, though.

A shifting farther away in the tent drew Epona's attention. Although she couldn't see in the darkness, the slave girl could feel Drea's presence. She bit her lip. Drea seemed far more relaxed than Tara, and far less fierce, but Epona still didn't think she liked her much. She wasn't really sure why. Drea was certainly more likeable than the erratic redhead…maybe it was simply that Epona had noticed the gleam of interest in the woman's dark eyes when she looked at her. If Tara hadn't been there, the slave felt certain that Drea would have acted on that interest.

…Which was a ridiculous reason not to like her, Epona admitted to herself. Why despise the woman just for wanting to do what Tara did almost nightly? She sighed and closed her eyes. _I guess I've just never known women like them before, and I don't know what to do with them. I'm scared. _Her fingers closed convulsively over a handful of Tara's shirt. _I wish that Marcella was here._

The warrior beneath her took a sudden, deeper breath. Epona grew very still. Then the arm that was wrapped around her shoulders moved up, and the slave girl felt strong fingers sorting through her curls. "Good morning, _beag luch,_" came the calm voice of her owner.

"Ma'am," Epona whispered.

She felt rather than heard the chuckle that ran through Tara's body at this, rumbling deep in her chest. The older woman's fingers caressed the side of her face. "Did you sleep well?"

Epona never knew how she was supposed to respond to that question. Did Tara actually mean it? She chewed her lip. "Yes'm," she responded.

"Good." The warrior sat up, carrying the smaller girl with her. Epona waited until the woman's arms released her before timidly moving back to sit on her heels. She felt Tara's weight shift as she stood up, and heard the shuffling as the woman moved around. "About time for my run," the warrior grunted. "I think I hear some of the camp followers up and around already. You can go and make yourself useful."

"Yes, ma'am." Epona hunted in the darkness for her boots, found them, and pulled them on. The gray light of the predawn filtered in as Tara pulled back the tent flap. The woman paused, and the slave saw her eyes glinting at her in the dim light. Obeying the silent command, Epona got up and slipped out past the woman.

A callused hand swatted her on the backside. "Off with you," Tara said gruffly. "I'll be back in an hour or two." Epona nodded, and watched as her owner headed out of the camp and broke into a graceful run. The morning mists soon swallowed the running woman. With a quiet sigh, the slave turned and made her way toward the fire at the center of the raiders' camp.

There was only one figure by the fire. It was a middle-aged woman with shoulder-length, black hair and a gentle face. Epona couldn't help smiling as she approached her. She'd met this servant the night before, and she liked her. "Good morning," she said softly.

The woman looked up and returned the smile. "Good morning, little lass," she said kindly. "You're up early."

"Yeah. I guess I am. Tara gets up early a lot, I think." Epona peered down at the pot that sat at the woman's feet. "Can I help you?"

"Of course you can. I think I've about got this porridge ready to go on the fire, but we'll need to make some tea, as well. You can do that." The servant indicated another, smaller pot of water that was already beginning to steam on the hot coals. "Do you remember where we keep the leaves?"

"Yes, ma'am," Epona murmured, moving past the seated woman toward the bundles of foodstuff.

A hand caught her gently by the wrist as she passed. Epona paused and looked down into the woman's face in faint surprise. "It's Bernice," the servant said, with a quiet smile, "not ma'am. There's no need for that, Epona."

A shy smile slowly curved the girl's lips. "Okay," she said softly. "Thank you, Bernice." The woman patted her and turned back to her work. Epona went to the pile of bundles, knelt down, and began to rummage for the tea leaves. In the softening gloom, her smile grew just a little wider.


	9. Chapter 9

Tara sat with her back to the trunk of a tree, her long legs stretched out in front of her, and played idly with a dagger. They had finally reached their destination; the caravan they were planning on robbing was due the next day. Drea had called a meeting of her inner circle to plan the heist. The redhead leaned back and regarded the three men who sat by the fire with idle interest. One of them she recognized as having been with the young man whose head she'd taken a few days before; he was shooting her veiled glances every now and then, and his eyes held unmistakable respect. The other two were more or less unknown to her. All three were grizzled veteran fighters, olive-skinned Argonians with the hard muscles that came from long years of training. Tara thought she recognized one of them from the years she had fought under Vasilus, but she didn't know the man's name.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of Drea. The woman stumped over to the fire and sat down. Her dark eyes swept the men, met Tara's for a moment, and then moved on. "All right," Drea said at length, once the silence had stretched out for a moment or two. "We've got a fight to plan out, boys." She spread out a scrap of parchment on the top of a stump and tapped it with her finger. "This here's a map of the gully where we'll want to hit 'em. Here's where it narrows. We've got eleven fighters – let's figure out where to put everyone."

The plans began to take shape. Tara sat apart, watching through half-closed eyes. To all appearances, she seemed bored to death. Her sharp hearing, however, missed nothing. She took careful note of which men made the best strategic suggestions, and of their names. _Hadrien – the largest of the bunch, but not stupid by any stretch. Argus – lighter tan than the others, doesn't seem that clever about strategy, but I bet he's a wicked fighter. Leander – the best strategic mind of the three. _Tara yawned and slipped her dagger back into its sheath.

Drea's dark eyes rose from the map and rested on the redheaded woman. "Do you have anything to add, Tara?" she asked. "You've been pretty quiet."

Silence fell as the three men turned to look at the Gael. Tara gave a leisurely stretch and rose to her feet. "Yes. Actually, I do." She moved over to the map and looked down at it in silence for a moment. There were a number of small pebbles on it, to indicate the positions of their fighters and of the caravan. Tara rested her finger to the left of the inked lines that indicated the narrowest point of the ravine. "I scouted out the area before I came here," she said diffidently. "You folks are wanting to put our fighters on this side, and our three archers on the other; it won't work. The footing on this side of the gully's really iffy – lots of loose stones and soil. Anyone on foot's going to slip and fall, and we need to strike quickly if we want to keep the element of surprise." She tapped the other side of the ravine. "Put our footsoldiers there. Swap them. The archers can stay up high, so they don't have to worry about slipping down the embankment."

There was a pause. Drea's lips curved upward just a bit. "That's a great point," she said. "I think you're right." She glanced at the three men. "Any objections to implementing that?" There was silence, and Drea deftly swapped the stones. Then she raised her eyes to the redhead's again. "We've already got systems we use to fight," she said. "Some of the boys go straight up the middle of the enemy – some are better at hitting the flanks. Where do you fit, Tara?"

Tara gave a quiet smile. She was well aware that Drea already knew the answer to this question. _This one's for the benefit of "the boys," I suppose. _"I go straight at the enemy," she said calmly. "And if there's any of them left by the time the rest of you get there, you're welcome to them." She patted the hilt of her sword. "I mostly use this, although I can use a javelin if I have one."

"We'll have to find you one tomorrow." Drea scratched her nose. "I bet some of those fellows guarding the gold will have them."

"I bet they will." A surge of adrenaline made Tara's heart beat faster, and she grinned with wicked anticipation. "Maybe I'll borrow a couple then." Drea's eyes met hers, with just a faint twinkle.

Leander cleared his throat, and Tara's attention turned to him. He had very broad shoulders and lean hips, and his features were chiseled. A white scar ran down the length of his left cheek, from ear to chin – he was, nevertheless, a handsome man. "I'm not normally one to question your decisions, Drea," he said slowly. "You've led us well these two years, and I've had nothing to complain of, but…" His eyes rested doubtfully on Tara. "If half the stories about this Gael are true, and if what I saw a couple of nights ago means anything, I don't know if having her with us is such a good idea."

Drea's brows lifted just a touch. "Tara's one of the best bloody fighters in this country, and probably in the world," she said coolly. "Archelaus shot his mouth off and attacked someone who outranked and outclassed him, and he paid for it with his head. I don't see that Tara did anything much worse than what I would have done if he'd pulled that stunt with me."

He rubbed the back of his neck. "Aye, maybe," he said grudgingly. "But all the same…"

The redheaded warrior thumped her fist down on the stump just hard enough to make the group jump. Her cold brown eyes caught and held his. "I don't kill without reason," she said evenly. "If you're my ally and under my command, you have nothing to fear from me so long as you shut up and follow orders. I don't think that's unreasonable."

"No," Leander allowed. He still looked a bit doubtful. "I guess not."

Tara nodded shortly. "Other than that…" She looked up at the smaller woman. "Drea's in charge. I'll follow her lead, just like the rest of you."

Drea gave a faint smirk and turned her gaze back on the map. "All right, then. On that note, I think this meeting's over. Unless any of you have something you'd like to add?" There was silence. Drea's eyes moved pointedly to Leander's, and he shook his head. "Good." The dark-skinned woman leaned back, smiled, and shrugged. "Go off and get some rest, then, boys. Tomorrow's the big day." The men headed to their tents. Tara found Drea's dark eyes resting on her; the smaller woman seemed amused. "You follow my lead, do you, Terror?"

"Sure. Unless you do something incredibly stupid." Tara gave a quiet smile. "And unless things have changed a lot in the past couple of years, you're not a stupid woman."

"Hope not," Drea said, her eyes twinkling. "You never know, though. I have taken a few hits to the head in my time." She rose and stretched. "I'm going over to Hadrien's tent. A few of us are playing a round or two of cards before we all hit the hay. You want to come?"

Tara shook her head firmly. "Nope." She got up and brushed the dirt off her clothes.

The smaller warrior shook her head and smirked. "Still the same old antisocial bear," she said. "All right, then. You go and cuddle with the Pony by yourself if you want. I'm playing some cards."

This made Tara pause. She turned to look at Drea and raised a brow. "The pony?"

Drea laughed. "Oh, that's right. You probably wouldn't have heard that yet. Hadrien's servant, Bernice, started calling your little Epona that yesterday. Pony." She grinned. "It kind of suits her, don't you think?"

"Huh." Tara made a face. "If you say so." Drea only laughed again, and made her way into the camp. The redheaded warrior shrugged. Then she went to look for Epona.

She found the girl sitting with two other camp followers, quietly engaged in helping with the mending. The girl raised her moss-green eyes as Tara approached. The faint smile that had been on Epona's face faded abruptly. Tara paused. "Come," she said shortly. "It's time for bed." The slave put down her work, murmured a quick goodbye to her companions, and rose to her feet. Tara's hand rested possessively against the young woman's back as they made their way to their tent.

Once there, Tara lit a small lamp and began to unbuckle the straps that held on her armor. "Strip," she ordered. "Drea's at a card game, so we've got some time to ourselves. I want to make the most of it." Epona gazed at her for a moment, her large eyes inscrutable, before she obeyed.

The sight of the girl's bare skin made Tara's gut burn. She wanted her suddenly – wanted her badly. With a groan, Tara caught the slave by her arm and pulled her close, crushing her lips against hers. She felt Epona's muscles tense, but she didn't care. With a burst of strength, she bore her down to her sleeping mat and began to bite at her breastbone, her hands gripping at Epona's hips. The slave gasped and writhed beneath her; Tara felt small fingers digging into the backs of her arms. "You are delicious," Tara muttered, rising up to catch Epona's lips in another bruising kiss.

"Please." The slave girl's voice was quivering. Tara was surprised to see tears brimming in Epona's green eyes. "Please," she whispered again, "don't hurt me."

_What? _The warrior looked down at her own hands, only then noticing that her knuckles were white. She loosened her grasp on Epona's hips with some chagrin. _All right, all right, tiger. Don't forget that she's only a little thing. Easy, now. _She bent down to kiss the slave again, more gently this time. "I won't," she said quietly. "Relax." Her touch became almost tender, and she slowed down. She felt the tense muscles beneath her fingertips begin to loosen. "Is that better?"

"Yes, ma'am." Epona swallowed hard, and didn't meet her gaze.

"Good." Tara slid her palms lightly up the girl's lean flanks. _She's still kind of spooked. Maybe I better calm her down a bit more. _"I hear someone's given you a nickname," she murmured.

Epona nodded, peering up at her through her black lashes. "Yes'm. Bernice called me Pony," she whispered. "I guess people like it."

Tara brushed her lips over the soft skin of Epona's throat. "Drea was saying," she remarked. "I'm probably not going to call you that, but I suppose it's…" The warrior hesitated, searching for the appropriate word. "…Cute," she finished lamely. She couldn't quite conceal her distaste.

The slave reached up and traced the side of Tara's face, her fingertips sliding over her cheekbone. She seemed pensive. "You don't have to, ma'am," was all she said.

Tara smirked. "You are adorable," she said calmly, and lowered her head to nibble on Epona's collarbone again. Her mouth moved lower – Epona's small hands clutched at her shoulders – and everything else melted away.


	10. Chapter 10

The pitch black of night was just beginning to give way to the pearly gray light of dawn, and the world was quiet, save for a few tentative twitters of birdsong. The sky was clear, and it promised to be a beautiful day, once the sun rose and burned off the chill of the early morning mist.

The silence was broken by the soft sound of running feet, and a red-haired woman jogged over the crest of the hill, her long legs devouring the distance with powerful strides. Tara's lips quirked into a faint smile.

She loved daybreak – loved to greet the sun by displaying her strength. Tara gave a broad grin of delight at the thought. She'd already spent an hour or so lifting and hurling great stones, before her restless energy had sent her out on this run. She felt great – and the thought of the battle that lay ahead of her put an extra bounce in her step. Her eye caught a tree branch hanging about five feet over her head. With a sudden burst, Tara sprang and caught it, flipping herself onto it with an agility surprising in one so tall. Three more leaps took her to the top of the tree. There she crouched, panting lightly, and took in her surroundings.

There was no sign of human habitation as far as her eye could see, except for the distant road to the north, and the smoke from the campfire a few miles to the west. Tara gave a sigh of contentment. She soaked in the peace and solitude for a minute or two longer. Then she rose to her feet, walked out on the branch, and leaped, throwing her arms out as if to take flight.

The wind rushed past her as she fell. Tara laughed with the sheer joy of it, then reached out and caught another branch, swinging and propelling herself upward again. For several minutes she played, soaring and flipping through the air like a gigantic bird. Finally, with one last graceful spin, Tara dropped down to the earth. The moment her feet touched the ground, she took of westward.

She'd begun this morning ritual of exercise soon after being kicked out of the army in Gaelis. At first, it had just been a way to build extra strength and endurance, and to burn off her excess energy. It had quickly become a pleasure as well, her competitive nature finding great pleasure in pitting her growing muscles against the immutable stones. Tara was never happier than when she was fighting, but her morning workouts came a very close second.

She ran back the way she had come, her feet tirelessly beating against the ground. About half a mile from camp, her pace slowed. She could smell moisture in the air; the faint roar of flowing water came to her ears. With a slight smile, Tara turned her steps toward the sound.

The river that flowed nearly parallel to the distant road tumbled down into a pool at one point. Tara had found it during her initial scouting of the area. Now she stopped on the embankment, quickly stripped off her clothes, and leaped gracefully into the water.

It was icy cold. Tara's breath caught in her throat as her head surfaced again. She inhaled sharply and dove down, until her hands slid into the slimy mud at the bottom. Then she curved her body, dug her feet in, and pushed off. The water rushed against her face as she swam upward. An exultant smile curved her lips as her head burst out into the air once more. Gasping with exertion and exhilaration, she pulled herself back up on dry land and lay back on the grass. The morning sun felt hot against her wet skin.

Tara closed her eyes. She felt good – replete. Energy hummed through her body. _I'm ready, _she thought. _I'm ready to fight. _Suddenly, she couldn't bear the absence of her armor and sword any longer. Bounding to her feet, Tara quickly pulled on her clothes, tucked her dagger into its sheath, and dashed off toward the mercenary camp.

The camp was stirring. From the smells that wafted to Tara's nose as she approached, she guessed that breakfast was almost ready. She spotted Drea sitting off to one side, deep in conversation with Hadrien. Epona was with the camp followers who were preparing the food. Tara snapped her fingers at her as she passed. "Come," she ordered. The slave got up and followed her silently.

Her armor was waiting for her in her tent. Tara gave it a quick inspection before turning to her quiet slave. "You might as well learn how to help me with this," she said calmly. "It's a pain putting it on by myself." The warrior stripped off her tunic, and then hunted about for the small container of war paint she kept in her saddlebags. It was one Gael practice that she'd held onto – woad battle paint. She dug her fingers into the blue stuff and began to apply it to her skin in dramatic swirls. Once her face and torso were covered, she closed the container and picked up her heavy shoulder armor. Epona staggered under its weight as Tara thrust it at her. "Lift that up over my head," she instructed, quickly throwing on her mail shirt.

It took visible effort, but Epona managed to put the armor in place over Tara's shoulders. The warrior gave terse instructions about which straps should buckle where; Epona's dainty fingers tied laces and fastened straps with tolerable skill. Bracers followed, and then her leg armor. When the final strap had been fastened, the smaller girl sat back on her heels and peered up at Tara. "Is that all right, ma'am?"

Tara considered, flexing her calf muscles and stamping her feet. Then she jerked her head and grunted her approval as she reached for her sword and shield. "Bring me my helm." Epona obeyed. Tara slung her shield onto her back and sheathed her blade at her side. Then, taking her crested helmet from the slave's hands, she thrust it onto her head. A ripple of adrenaline moved through her, and she could feel the feral excitement of war stirring to life. She looked down.

Epona winced and shrank back a little when their eyes met. Tara smirked. "What? You've seen me in this armor before."

"No, ma'am. Not like this," Epona whispered with a deep shiver. Her moss-green eyes dropped under the glittering gaze of Tara's.

The warrior smirked a little wider. Her slave's fear was obvious – she hoped she would intimidate her men and her enemies as well. Tara clapped Epona roughly on the back. "Good work," she said gruffly. "Get back out there and see if they still need any help with breakfast." The girl fairly scuttled from the tent. Chuckling, Tara casually followed.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

The caravan was coming.

Tara's eyes glinted as she followed its progress toward them. She counted the enemy silently. …_Twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty… _One brow slowly raised. She turned her head to look at Drea, who was crouched beside her and scowling. "How many?" she murmured.

"I know," Drea muttered darkly. "Ten more than we expected. Not good."

"Calling it off?" Tara's voice was cool.

Drea smirked. "Hades, no. I'm just calling in my secret weapon." She patted Tara's well-muscled thigh. "You up to it, Terror?" Tara's only reply was a small, cold smile. The two fell silent, watching their prey.

The ambush was set. The three archers were crouched across the narrow gorge, arrows on the string, awaiting Drea's signal. Behind them huddled the four camp followers who had been chosen as field medics. Epona was among them, having been chosen for her gentle hands and soothing manner. Tara had objected to this at first, pointing out that Epona had no experience, but Leander had countered that she had to learn sometime. After some persuasion, Tara had given her grudging consent. She glanced across the ravine. Although the camp followers were huddled behind a bush, Tara's eagle eye could make out Epona's nervous face peering uncertainly from the foliage. The warrior frowned briefly. Then she put the matter out of her mind and turned her attention back to their quarry.

They were close now. Tara could see the carriage where the gold was probably being kept, and the details of the weapons the soldiers were carrying. There were javelins, and good ones. Tara grinned. _I'll win me one of those today, _she vowed, loosening her sword in its sheath.

Closer – closer. Tara's dark eyes flicked to Drea. The smaller woman had her blade drawn, ready to give the signal to attack. Tara's eyes glistened as adrenaline surged through her veins. A pause – the sword raised – another, interminable pause…

Then it came down, and Tara was on her feet, charging headlong down the steep incline as if bent on breaking her neck. Her sword was in her hand before she was even aware of having drawn it. With a wild yell, she fell on the nearest enemy, only briefly noting it when two of them fell with arrows protruding from their bodies.

At first, it was just adrenaline. Tara's blade clattered off an upraised bracer. She spun, driving the edge of her shield hard into the side of the soldier's head. There was a moist crack. She didn't even stop to watch him fall; she was already attacking her next target. The sickly sweet smell of blood rose up in Tara's nostrils – the predator in her roared to life. She began to laugh as her blade carved out a swath of death all around her. A sword swiped at her head! Tara ducked under it, swinging her shield at the man's exposed side. There was a crunch of bone, and he fell with a choked cry.

Tara's laughter rang out as she waded forward. She was in full battle fury now, exulting in every swing of her sword and every enemy that fell beneath its pitiless edge.

And then there were no more enemies, and the field was hers. Tara darted to the cart that held the gold, leaped onto its roof with one spring, and thrust her sword into the air with a roar of triumph. The cry was echoed by the other mercenaries. Slowly, the red miasma of battle faded from her vision. Panting with exertion and fierce joy, Tara slowly lowered her sword and looked around.

All of their enemies lay dead except one; two raiders were busily engaged in binding him with ropes. One of the mercenaries had fallen near the cart. One look was enough to tell Tara that he wouldn't be rising again. _Wonder where Epona is? _The warrior looked around until her eye found the slim form of her slave. Her heart nearly stopped.

The camp followers were bent over the crumpled body of a mercenary. Tara's dark eyes took in the familiar limbs with a sudden shock of fear. "_Drea!"_ In an instant, the Gael was back on the ground and dashing to the woman's side. She impatiently shouldered a camp follower aside. "Move! Let me look at her."

Drea's brown eyes were glazed with pain, but she grinned weakly at the redhead. "Hey, Terror. Relax, all right? It's not fatal."

"Where are you hurt?" Tara was already removing Drea's armor with swift, sure movements. Blood was gushing from the warrior's side; more seeped from a nasty cut that ran across her upper arm. Tara quickly pinched the wound closed and looked up into Epona's wide, green eyes. "Hold this shut," she ordered. "Put pressure on it. That'll keep her from bleeding out." The slave obeyed with trembling hands. "Someone sew it up," Tara snapped, turning her attention to Drea's side.

The woman's tunic was plastered to her skin with blood and earth. Tara drew her dagger and cut the cloth to expose the wound. It was ugly – a deep, three-cornered gash that revealed the white bone of Drea's ribs. Tara heard Epona gasp in horror. Calmly, the warrior looked at one of the hovering field medics. "Water," she said tersely. A skin of it appeared, and Tara washed the wound thoroughly, taking care to flush out every speck of dirt. Then she pulled the cut closed with her fingers. "Give me a threaded needle," she snapped. Someone pressed the implement into her hand, and Tara began to stitch the wound closed, one layer at a time.

Drea's face was white with pain and loss of blood, but she managed a wavering smile as Tara worked. "Just like old times, huh?"

Tara did not return the smile. "I'd rather not relive this particular memory, Drea," she said coldly. "What happened?"

"I got my sword stuck between a guy's armor plates for a second," the wounded woman said. "One of those soldiers got me in the side. I killed him, but he stung my arm pretty good first."

"Bloody Hades," Tara muttered. She finished the stitching, leaving a bit of the cut open so it could drain. Then she flushed it with water, dusted it with healing herbs, and bound up the wound with one of the field medic's linen bandages. "There. All patched up."

"Thanks." Drea slowly sat up, grimacing with the effort, and rubbed her eyes. "Damn. Maybe I'm getting too bloody old for this nonsense, Terror."

"I'm sure the gold will ease your pain." Tara's lips quirked just a little as she rose to her feet. "You need to be carried back?"

Drea glared at her. "Rot in Tartarus," she growled. "Do I look like some kind of a cream puff to you? Give me your damn hand." Tara extended her arm. Drea grasped it and pulled herself up. For a moment she paled, and her grip on Tara's forearm tightened. Then she released her grasp and strode toward the other mercenaries, barking orders.

Tara turned to look at the silent camp followers. "Bring her armor back to camp," she instructed. "Have medical supplies ready for when we get back." The servants obeyed, and Tara followed after Drea.

It took a couple of hours to pack the gold and the rest of their loot back to the campsite. By the time the last of it was done, it was already dark out. The money and things were stacked nearly up near the fire, to be doled out the next day.

Tara looked at Drea. The woman was standing by the pile of loot with her arms folded, the very picture of stoic strength. The redhead could see the telltale pallor, however, and the faint twitching of Drea's lips. Tara calmly gestured. "Sit down, Captain. I want another look at your wounds." Drea gave her a dour look. It seemed for a moment as if she would refuse. Then, with a reluctant sigh, Drea seated herself on a section of log.

The gash on Drea's side looked angry and red. Tara quietly washed it again and changed the bandage. Then she carefully removed the bandages that hid the cut on Drea's right arm.

It was worse than Tara had initially thought. The cut wasn't very long, but it was deep. It had, in fact, come perilously close to severing the muscle completely. Tara's eyes blazed as she cleaned and bandaged the wound. _Those bastards almost crippled her. They're bloody lucky they're all in Hades already, because if they weren't, I'd damn well send them there now! _

She got up. Her eyes suddenly darkened as they alighted on the young man they'd taken prisoner. He was sitting about twenty feet from the campfire, his hands tied behind his back. Tara snarled, and felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up. Before she'd really had time to think, her sword was naked in her hand, and she was striding purposefully across the expanse that separated them. Startled camp followers scattered out of her way.

When she reached him, Tara stopped for a moment to drink in his reactions. She saw his eyes widen, his face grow pale, and beads of cold sweat begin to form on his cheeks. Tara's inner predator rejoiced. She knew there was death in her face – she gave a feral smile as she pulled back her blade.

"_No!" _And suddenly small hands were clutching at Tara's sword arm. The shock of it made the warrior freeze for a moment. Her dark eyes flicked down to see Epona standing before her; the girl was weeping softly and clinging to her. "Don't! Please don't, ma'am. He's tied up, he can't even fight you…"

Rage flared up in Tara's belly. With a snarl, she swung hard! The hilt of her sword caught the slave full in the mouth, snapping her head back and throwing her to the ground. Tara plunged her blade to the hilt in the young man's body, almost as an afterthought. Then she turned on Epona. The slave was crumpled into a sobbing heap on the grass. Without one word, Tara reached down, caught Epona by the wrist, and dragged her bodily to the edge of the camp.

By the time Tara let Epona fall again, the slave was almost hysterical with fear. "D-don't kill me," she sobbed out. "Please, don't kill me!"

"Shut up!" The furious warrior brought the back of her hand viciously across Epona's bloodied mouth. The slave cried in pain and terror. "You defied me in front of the entire camp. You've disgraced me!" Tara's eyes darted around until they came to rest on a nearby tree. With one hard jerk, she wrenched off a branch, and quickly stripped off the smaller twigs until she held a long switch; it was as thin and supple as a steel rod. "Take off your tunic."

As panic-stricken as Epona was, she didn't dare to disobey. Tara snatched at the slave's forearm then, jerked Epona toward herself, and began to strike. Temper drove her on. She lashed the squealing girl mercilessly until her switch broke. Then, her rage still unappeased, Tara began to beat her with her fist. Not until Epona's screams had faded into pitiful whimpers did Tara stop. Then, panting with exertion, she let the slave drop. Her brown eyes coldly surveyed her handiwork.

Even in the dim light, Tara could see the livid stripes that marked the girl's naked back and sides. Epona's face was covered with blood. She lay twitching and choking with sobs at the warrior's feet.

Tara's eyes were like ice. "Don't you dare show your face by the campfire until I give you leave," she hissed. "It you so much as twitch, I swear I'll whip you until your bones show through your skin!" With that, she spun on her heel and headed toward her tent.


	11. Chapter 11

The dawn was beginning to soften the dead black of the night sky. The raiders' camp was stirring. A few of the camp followers were just starting breakfast, and some early-rising mercenaries were chatting somewhere near where the horses were tethered. Tara sat by the campfire with her armor in her lap, glowering as she cleaned and repaired it. She had gone and taken a cold bath already that morning to cleanse the gore and war paint from her skin, but she still looked dangerous. Every now and then, she put a large bottle to her lips and drank deeply. Everyone was careful to give her a wide berth.

There was a stirring, and footsteps approached. Tara looked up to see Drea standing near her. She scowled and looked away, impatiently thrusting a fringe of red hair out of her eyes. There was a pause. Then Drea sat down beside her. "Morning."

Tara glared at the fire and took a long, determined swig from her bottle. "Go away."

Drea shot her a quiet smile. Tara could see it out of the corner of her eye. "What's up?"

The larger woman turned abruptly to glare at her, setting aside the tool she'd been using to repair her armor. "Why in Hades should anything be up? I'm not in the mood to chat. Bugger off."

"Come on, Tara. I've known you for a long time, so give me some credit. I know the signs – you're chugging your bottle of sherry at six in the morning." Drea tapped the offending container with one callused finger. "Kick my ass if you want, but I'm still gonna ask. Now, you stubborn old warhorse, what's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," Tara growled. "Now go away, or I _will_ kick your ass."

The dark-skinned woman raised one brow. "Mm-hmm." She leaned back and folded her arms across her chest. There was silence for a while. "Look," Drea said at length, "I get it. I'm as hard-bitten as they come. I'm a tough old bitch, and so are you, and we don't do the hug-around-the-campfire thing. But we're still human." Her brown eyes caught Tara's. "That's nothing to be ashamed of."

The redhead scowled and looked away. "Just because we used to warm each others' bedrolls doesn't mean I won't bloody your nose, Drea."

"So bloody it. Wouldn't be the first time," Drea said cheerfully. "In the meantime, spill – you're feeling bad about beating up Epona, aren't you?"

"Excuse me?" Tara's voice dropped dangerously.

"Come on, Terror. It's not like it's some big secret, you know." Drea smiled. Tara's eyes met hers coldly; she took another long drink from her rapidly-emptying bottle. "So you've got a soft spot for Pony. What's so bad about that? She's a cute little thing. She's sweet and innocent – makes you want to protect her. Nothing wrong with that."

Tara deliberately set down her sherry. "She is my _slave,"_ she said through gritted teeth. "She defied me in front of the camp, and she deserved every lash I gave her for it."

"Who's arguing?" Drea shrugged, looking up at the sky. "Like you said, she's your slave. What you do with her is technically your business. All I'm saying is, it's fine if you feel bad about it, too. You don't always have to be channeling Ares, you know."

The dangerous glint vanished abruptly from Tara's eyes. She took another halfhearted drink from her bottle. "It's the Morrigan, not Ares," she corrected quietly. Her hand rubbed tiredly through her mussed hair. "I'm a Gael, not an Argonian."

"I doubt that matters much. The two of 'em are about the same, seems to me," Drea said dryly. In the silence that followed, the olive-skinned warrior absently drew a dagger and began to polish the blade. "Listen, I wanted to talk to you about what happened," she said. "You do have the right to do what you want with Epona, so don't think I'm questioning that. But the way things went down…" Tara stared silently into the flames. "One of the things I have to do as the leader of this group is keep the fellows happy," Drea went on. "We're all glad if we can get a good fighter with us, and you're definitely that. You killed nearly half of those guards by yourself yesterday. The boys notice things like that. But they really don't like you."

The redhead shrugged. "So? I'm not here to make friends."

"Maybe not," Drea agreed quietly, "but if you're going to be my second – and I want you to be, Tara – the boys at least need to not hate you, all right? All they've seen of you so far is violence, and the fact that you don't drink or game with them. And whether you like this or not, people here kind of like Pony, and the fact that you beat her in front of everyone didn't really endear you to them, whether she deserved it or not." Tara scowled, but said nothing. "I'm not exactly rebuking you yet, all right? Just…well, maybe think about things a little more. Okay?"

"Fine," Tara muttered. "Whatever."

"All right." The dark-skinned woman seemed relieved. She stopped her idle playing with her knife and sheathed it. "Listen, a couple of the camp girls wondered if they could give Pony some food and patch her up some. She's had a miserable night."

Tara shook her head firmly. "No," she said. "She's still being punished. I'll take care of her in a bit, but I'll do it myself."

Drea hesitated. She seemed about to argue the point, but then sighed and shrugged. "All right. I'll pass it on." She clapped Tara on the shoulder. "Try to leave some booze for the rest of us, all right?"

"Sure." Tara's dark eyes followed the woman as she left, and then dropped pensively back to the fire.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Epona was huddled on the ground, shivering. Tara could see her there – she was still on the spot where the warrior had dropped her the night before. _Probably too scared to move, _Tara thought wryly. She sighed and glanced up at the sky. It was getting close to noon. It was probably time. The redhead got up, grabbed a bundle and flask that lay nearby, and headed toward the quivering form of her slave.

The wide green eyes noted Tara's approach. Epona struggled up to her knees and hunched there, trembling visibly, with her head down. Tara thought she was probably crying. The warrior moved to stand over her. She was silent for a moment, running her dark eyes over Epona's form. The girl was still naked to the waist, having not even dared to put her tunic back on; the wicked cuts and welts stood out in stark relief against the white skin. _There might be infection, _Tara mused. _I'll have to get her over by the fire to treat her properly. _"Come on," she said shortly. "Bring your shirt." And she strode back toward the flickering flames.

Conversations flagged as curious eyes fell on Tara. She swept the raiders with a cold glare, and all eyes were suddenly averted. She knew, though, that she and her slave were still being watched. Tara sighed and turned to the cringing girl. "Kneel down," she ordered. Epona obeyed in silence. Tara went down on one knee to assess the damage.

The whipping had been pretty brutal, Tara thought grimly, her fingers gently probing at the torn back. There were countless blue-black welts, and at least twelve long cuts. Five of the gashes were puffy and red with infection, although none of them looked ready to drain yet. Without comment, Tara added a handful of herbs to a pot of water and let it sit for a few minutes. Then she strained it and dipped out some of the liquid. "Don't move," she said quietly. "This will sting, but it'll help keep your back from getting too infected." Epona nodded miserably, and Tara began to wash her wounds.

When the cleansing was done, Tara turned her slave so she could examine her face. It was still caked with dirt and dried blood. Gravely, Tara dipped a clean rag in water and bathed away the filth. The left side of Epona's face, from eye to chin, was covered in an ugly purple bruise. Her lip was badly cut. _That'll be where I hit her with my sword hilt, _Tara thought, probing the wound gently. "That lip's going to need stitches," she said with a shake of her head. "Hold on a minute." And she held the tip of a needle in a flame for a moment or two.

Epona flinched as Tara approached with the wickedly-sharp little implement. The warrior paused. "This will pinch a bit," she said quietly. "You need to hold still and take deep breaths. I'll work as fast as I can."

"Yes, ma'am." Epona's voice shook, but she bravely screwed her eyes shut. Tara hesitated. Then she gently pinched the sides of the cut together. She skillfully placed two stitches, sewing the gaping wound closed. The slave didn't move, but a whimper passed her trembling lips.

"Good girl," Tara murmured. "That should heal cleanly now."

"Ma'am?" The warrior paused in the act of packing away her healer's kit. The slave's green eyes were full of pain and fear, but she bravely met her owner's gaze. "My…my arm…," she whispered timidly, holding out her left wrist. Tara looked at it. The forearm was grossly swollen, and the skin was a deep, livid purple. _What…how did…_ The warrior gently took the poor little limb in her hands and examined it, her brow creased. _Did I actually break her arm? How did…oh. _The memory of holding the shrieking slave by her wrist flashed before Tara's eyes. _Ye gods. Sometimes I don't know my own strength._

"Your arm's broken," Tara said shortly. She reached over, caught up her flask, and thrust it at the wide-eyed slave. "Drink this. Drink all of it. It'll make this easier to bear." Epona tasted the whiskey cautiously, shuddered, and hesitated. Tara scowled. "_Drink!" _The slave obeyed.

Even with the poor girl half-drunk, the setting of her arm was an ugly affair. Tara had to pull and twist the shattered limb four times before the bones were finally aligned properly. By the time she finished splinting and bandaging the arm, Tara's face was slick with sweat. She wiped her brow and took a deep breath. Then, wearily, she gathered the sobbing girl into her arms and rose to her feet. "Come on, _beag luch,"_ she said quietly. "You've had a long night. Let's get you lying down."

It felt good to prop herself up against a fallen log and draw Epona down into her arms. Tara sighed and pulled the curly head up against her shoulder. The slave was still sobbing weakly. Her slender body felt tense in Tara's arms. "Shh," Tara murmured. "You're all right. It's over now. Rest."

"Please," Epona whimpered, "I…"

"It's all right," the warrior said. "You've been punished. You're forgiven. It's over."

Epona shuddered. Tara laid a hand against her unbruised cheek and held her quietly. She heard the slave gulp a couple of times. "Ma'am?" The voice was tiny. "Did…did you have to kill that boy?"

"That wasn't your decision, and it wasn't your affair," Tara said coldly. She felt the slave girl flinch. Calmly, she ran her fingers through the dark curls that lay against her chest. Epona's body still felt tense; Tara drew her head up a little and kissed her brow. "Sleep now." Normally, Epona would probably have been in too much pain to rest, but she had swallowed a lot of whiskey. Tara felt the slender form slowly relax in her arms. A few minutes later, the dark head rolled heavily against the side of the warrior's neck. Epona was unconscious.

There was movement nearby, and Drea appeared. She regarded the sleeping girl gravely. "She doing better?" she grunted.

"Yep." Tara jerked her head curtly.

"Good." With a stiff nod of her own, Drea turned and headed back toward their tent.


	12. Chapter 12

Morning had come, and breakfast was already over. Tara still lay against the log where she had sat down the day before with Epona in her arms. The slave had slept little, and neither, in consequence, had Tara. The warrior peered down at the curly head that lay pillowed on her breast. Epona's cheeks were flushed, and her face was twisted in pain. Tara brushed a hand over the slave's forehead; it felt warm. "Are you hurting?"

The green eyes opened and looked up. They were dull and glazed. "Yes, ma'am," Epona whispered.

Tara tested the temperature of the slave's cheeks; they, too, were hot to the touch. "Where does it hurt?" she asked quietly.

"My arm, mostly." Epona blinked back tears. It was obvious that she was trying desperately to be brave.

The warrior sighed. "Okay. It's probably time for me to check you over, anyway. I'll put you down and take a look at you. Lie still." She carefully laid her burden down on the ground. Epona stifled a groan. Gently, Tara peeled back the cloak she had wrapped the girl in and examined her back.

It was worse. At least eight of the open cuts now showed signs of infection, and three were weeping and full of pus. Tara winced inwardly. _No wonder the kid's running a fever. _"I'll have to clean your back again," she said calmly. "It's probably going to hurt, but it has to be done." Epona shut her eyes tightly as her owner made a few quick preparations. Then Tara flushed the wounds thoroughly with water. The slave whimpered as the warrior dusted the cuts liberally with healing herbs. "Done," Tara said, brushing a soothing hand over Epona's cheek. "Let's take a look at your arm, now."

The wrist had swollen a great deal during the night, and the bandage was now far too tightly wound. "Huh. No wonder this is paining you," Tara muttered. "Hold still. I'll fix you up." Epona gave a huge sigh of relief as the bandage came off. Tara repositioned the splints and carefully wrapped up the broken arm again. Then she doused the bandage with cool water, and Epona moaned softly. "There. That's better, isn't it?" Tara set down the water skin. "C'mere." She pulled the slave back up into her arms. The smaller girl huddled against her in silence.

It felt good to hold Epona's slim body. Tara couldn't help but remember what Drea had said earlier. _I wonder if it's true. Do I have a "soft spot" for her? _The redhead's brow creased. _I doubt that I'd ever have held Clytie or Meriel like this. I'd never have comforted either of them after I whipped them. I'd have just let them suffer…that's the point of punishing a slave, isn't it? _She looked down at the girl in her arms. Epona's eyes were closed, but Tara could still see the tracks of tears on her pale cheeks. She didn't like even the idea of leaving the younger woman to endure this alone. _Damn it. What's wrong with me? I'd better make sure she doesn't think I'm some kind of a marshmallow she can walk all over._

Tara cleared her throat. "Does it still hurt?" Epona gave a tremulous nod. "Good," the warrior said sternly. "You'd better think about what you did to earn yourself this beating. You're going to think twice before you challenge me again, right?"

"Yes, ma'am," the smaller girl whispered. Tara could feel the tension thrumming through Epona's boyish form.

Some of the severity faced from Tara's face at this. She brushed her knuckles across the slave's cheek. "Just do as you're told. If you do that, I'll never have to punish you again. That's all you have to do." Epona said nothing.

Boots crunched against the stony ground, and Tara looked up to find Drea standing over them. "Hey," the dark-skinned woman said. "We're about to parcel out the gold and stuff. Come get your cut, Terror."

Calmly, Tara laid her slave down on the ground and covered her carefully with the cloak. Not until this little operation was complete did she stand up and meet Drea's gaze. "There're only ten of us now, Drea," she said. The smaller warrior raised a brow, and Tara's lips pursed coolly. "I want an eighth."

There was a pause. Drea didn't seem surprised, but she regarded Tara with a calculating expression. "I could point out that you were hired for a tenth, fair and square," she remarked, "but I won't." There was another pause. "Tell you what; I'll give you a ninth, plus first choice of the loot."

"Eighth," Tara said firmly, folding her powerful arms across her chest. Then, as Drea frowned, "You're the one who wants me here. I don't care if I stay or not. You stiff me, and I'm gone."

Drea sighed wearily and gave her a disgusted look. "Fine, fine. An eighth it is. Go make your choices, then, so we can dole the rest of it out." The redhead nodded with a triumphant smirk.

They'd captured quite a decent pile of armor and weapons, and the four horses that had been drawing the cartful of gold. Tara didn't even glance at the horses; she knew none of them could match her own mount. She was conscious of the eyes watching her as she began to sift through the pile of weapons. _That's right, boys. First choice is mine. Eat your hearts out. _Tara's lips curved upward slightly.

First things first – Tara wanted a javelin. She chose one that was sturdy and well-maintained. It had been a long time since she'd carried one; its weight felt good in her hand. Tara set it down and examined the swords. They were standard-issue military blades. None of them were any better than hers, so she shrugged and laid them aside.

Then one of the captured shields caught her attention. It was better than the others – well-made, heavy with brass, and engraved with intricate scenes of the Argonian gods at war. Tara could pick out Ares with his mighty sword, and Athena wielding a javelin, and Artemis drawing her bow. There was Zeus, brandishing a lightning bolt; she could even see Hades itself pictured at the bottom of the shield, complete with Charon and Cerberus, and the mighty twin rivers, Lethe and Styx. Tara didn't hesitate. "I'll take these," she said, slinging the shield onto her back and hefting her javelin. Her eyes met Drea's. "If anyone wants me, you know where to find me." The dark-skinned warrior nodded, and Tara headed back to where she had left Epona.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

The camp had been packed up, and the mercenaries were mounting their horses. It had only taken about an hour after doling out the loot to finish the job. Tara fastened the buckle on one last saddlebag and gave her horse an affectionate slap on the rump. He looked at her with a slight roll of his liquid eyes; Tara grinned and scratched his neck. "Ready to go, boy?" she said. "Bet you're glad to see some action after sitting around for a few days, huh?" She straightened his mane. "Give me a minute to get my slave, and we'll head out." She turned away.

Epona was lying face-down on a patch of soft grass, with her cloak spread over her like a blanket. Tara went down on one knee beside her and pressed her palm against her brow; the slave's skin felt hot. Tara frowned. "Hey," she said quietly. "Ready to go, _beag luch?"_

Moss-green eyes opened a crack. They glistened with a hectic brilliance in the flushed little face. "Yes'm," Epona whispered.

Tara slid her arms carefully beneath the girl's body. Epona whimpered; Tara felt small fingers clutch at her sleeve. "Easy," the warrior murmured, adopting the soothing tone she would have used with a nervous horse. "Easy, now." She settled Epona's weight across her chest and shoulder, holding her with her left arm. Tara then put her foot in the stirrup and, with an athletic vault, swung into the saddle. She took a moment to settle Epona across her lap. The curly head was dead weight against her chest.

Drea rode up alongside her. "Hey. How's the Pony doing?" she asked. Her tone was nonchalant, but Tara detected concern in the woman's dark eyes.

"She's running a fever," the redhead said shortly, "but she'll be fine." She glanced past Drea to look over the campsite; everything seemed to be ready. "Looks like it's about time to head out."

"Yep." The dark-skinned woman glanced around. Then, with a wave of her arm, she dug her heels into her horse's sides. The group of raiders began to ride.

The two women rode together in silence for quite a while. Finally, Drea cleared her throat. "Remember what I said to you about group morale?" Tara looked at her coolly. The smaller woman's eyes were on the road ahead. "I think it'd be a good idea for you to come and drink with the boys a few times. You don't have to do it every night, or anything. Just enough so they can start seeing that you're human."

Tara smirked. "Oh? And what do they think I am now?"

Drea didn't smile. "They think you're a real bitch of a killing machine," she said frankly. Tara's grin widened, and Drea rubbed her eyes. "Yes, I know – you're going to say that's true, right?" The redhead chuckled. "Look, no one's going to argue that you're not an incredible warrior, least of all me," Drea said. "You've earned their obedience and respect. That's good. Now I want you to earn their allegiance."

"Why?" Tara's gaze was calm. "You've already got that. You're their leader, not me."

The dark-skinned woman shook her head. "I brought you in, Terror. I told the boys that you're a fighter, and they've seen it. But if you make them hate you, they won't follow you, and that makes it kind of hot for me, all right? It's my ass on the line." Tara just looked at her, and Drea sighed. "Tara, please. At least try. Do it for me."

The redhead scowled and looked away. She really didn't care whether the others liked her or not, and she had no intention of making this group a permanent part of her life. _But, well…Epona does seem to be getting along with the other camp followers, and I am sort of enjoying riding with Drea again. I suppose I could have a few mugs of ale with the men, if it'll get Drea off my case. _"Fine," she muttered. "I'll give it a shot."

Drea grinned and reached over to give Tara's leg a slap. "Good. Thanks." Then, with a click of her tongue, the dark-skinned woman spurred her horse on ahead. Tara watched her go with doubtful eyes.

The girl in her arms stirred and groaned, drawing her attention. Tara looked down and studied Epona's face. The slave's eyes were closed, and she looked thoroughly miserable. There was a fine sheen of moisture on her skin. Tara took a corner of her own cloak and gently wiped the slave's brow. Epona peered groggily up at her. "Are you all right, Epona?" the warrior asked quietly.

The green eyes closed again. "Hurts," Epona whispered. Her voice was very faint. "Sick."

Tara tested the temperature of the flushed little face again, and felt a pang of worry. "Hang on," she said brusquely, and reached down to fumble in a saddlebag. Tara had taken care to pack her healer's kit within easy reach; now she began to measure herbs into a cup. After a few minutes' work, she filled the cup with water and swirled it around a little. "Swallow this," she said, holding it to Epona's lips. "It's very bitter, but it'll take down your fever and make you sleep." Epona gulped feebly. She shuddered at the taste of the medicine, but uttered no complaint. Tara put the cup away and turned her attention back to the road. In a minute or two, she glanced down at her burden; Epona was sound asleep.

The day wore on. The slave slept for most of it. When they stopped for their midday meal, Tara only managed to coax a little water into the girl. By the time evening came, Epona was beginning to murmur in delirium.

The warrior laid her hand on Epona's cheek; it was still burning hot to the touch. Tara's brow creased. She heard Drea give the order to stop and make camp. For a few moments, Tara sat still, considering her options. Then she spurred her mount over to Drea's side.

The dark-skinned woman turned to her. Drea's eyes narrowed and dropped to Epona as soon as she saw the look on Tara's face. "She's worse," Tara confirmed quietly. "I think I'm going to ride on ahead, if you don't mind. If I ride hard, I think I can get to the inn at Argos before noon tomorrow. She needs a real bed."

Drea rubbed her chin. "Well, all right. We can meet up at the inn the day after tomorrow, I guess. Whenever we make it." She met Tara's gaze. "Is she going to be all right?"

"She'll be fine." Tara turned away. "I'll see you all later." She kicked her heels, and her warhorse snorted and broke into a trot.

The sunlight faded and died, leaving only the silver light of the stars and the quarter moon. The air grew chilled. Tara took off her own cloak and carefully wrapped it around the slave girl's limp body. Epona's head turned, and Tara saw her eyes glinting in the darkness. "Ma?" Epona whispered. "Ma, I'm cold."

_Boy, she's really out of it. _"You'll be all right," Tara said calmly. "I'll get you into a warm bed soon." The body in her arms stilled again, and Epona's eyes closed. Tara tucked the cloak up to the girl's chin. Then, on impulse, she bent to kiss the damp forehead. "Hang in there, little mouse," she murmured.

Here in the silence, it was impossible not to think about things. Tara found herself remembering how Epona had cried while she was being whipped – picturing the naked terror in the girl's face as she had begged Tara not to kill her. At the time, as angry as Tara was, she had taken almost a vicious pleasure in these things. Now, though, the warrior found herself feeling a little uneasy. _The plain fact is, I just lost my temper, _Tara thought. _Epona deserved to be punished for challenging me, of course, but what I did was too much. I just lost it and beat on her, like some oversized two-year-old having a tantrum._

_It was the battle fever, _Tara growled to herself, frowning deeply. _She crossed me while I was still all over woad and blood and glory. Damn it, she's lucky I didn't take my sword and run her through! _The warrior clasped Epona's curly head against her chest and gave a long sigh. _I'd better make a deal with myself never to flog her again when I'm angry like that. Epona's only a little thing. I could kill her without even meaning to._

The slave girl began to shiver suddenly. She burrowed against Tara's warmth, her teeth chattering audibly. "C-cold," she pleaded hoarsely. "So cold…"

"Okay." Tara didn't even bother to test the girl's temperature; she fumbled for the cup and water skin. "Give me a minute, Epona. I'll give you another dose." She'd prepared the herbs in advance, and she was glad she had. It would have been difficult to mix them properly in the dark. Tara filled the cup with water and held it to Epona's mouth. "Here. Swallow that." The slave gulped weakly. A few minutes later, her shivering abated, and she slept like one dead. Grimly, Tara spurred her mount, and the two of them were carried swiftly through the silvered shadows.


	13. Chapter 13

The ride into Argos was certainly different now than it had been the last time, Tara reflected wearily. She certainly lacked that sense of optimism and well-being she'd had the last time she'd laid eyes on these streets. Her brown eyes flicked down to the girl in her arms. Epona was asleep again, thanks to yet another dose of medicine, but her fever burned on unabated. Tara glanced up at the sun – it was nearly noon. She was tired, but she pushed it aside and turned her horse toward the inn.

Her steed had barely had a chance to stop before she was swinging out of the saddle and quickly unstrapping saddlebags. Tara slung her gear over one shoulder as she supported her limp slave with the other. The stableboy approached; the warrior didn't even take the time to look at him. Hefting Epona to rest more securely against her, Tara strode into the building.

It was fairly quiet inside. The innkeeper's wife, a sweet-looking woman with salt-and-pepper hair, looked up with wide eyes as the warrior approached. "I've got a sick slave here," Tara said, her words clipped and precise. "Give me a room, quickly."

There was a brief moment of hesitation. Then, as Tara's brows lowered dangerously, the woman pointed at the staircase. "Third door on the left," she said weakly. With a jerk of her head, the warrior turned away.

Epona didn't so much as twitch when Tara laid her on the bed. The redhead lost no time in pulling out her much-used healer's kit and baring the slave's torn back. The infection was worse; Tara glanced at it briefly before turning away. Working briskly, Tara made a fire in the small hearth, and put a pot of water on to boil. Then she laid out her herbs and selected the ones she would soon need. Lastly, she drew her dagger and held the blade in the fire, letting the hungry flames lick the metal clean of any impurities.

Tara turned back to the bed and laid out a couple of clean rags. The water had boiled; she drew it off the flames and waited until it was cool enough to dip her fingers into it comfortably. Then she laid her hand on Epona's face. "Some of the cuts on your back are pretty infected," she said out loud. "I'm going to have to drain them. It's going to hurt, but you'll feel better afterward, all right?" The slave didn't respond. With a deep breath, Tara began her work.

It was a mercy that Epona was unconscious. The cleaning was a nasty process, and Tara had to use her blade to drain many pockets of infection. Epona squirmed and moaned a couple of times, but didn't wake up. At last, the warrior began to flush the gashes out with water. Then she took up a bowl and began to gently crush handfuls of leaves in it. She'd given up on her usual cleansing herbs; this infection required something stronger. Tara moistened the leaves and ground them until the bowl was full of a greenish-brown pulp. Then, carefully, she spread clean rags over the open wounds, and gently packed the poultice on top. When this was done, Tara wetted more rags and spread them overtop of the herbs to keep them moist.

At last, Tara sat back and exhaled. Epona was still out cold, but her wounds had at least been cleaned, and the poultice would hopefully draw out the remaining infection. The warrior cleaned up. Then she took their water skin and knelt down by the bed again. Epona's cheek burned under her fingers. "Little mouse," the warrior said, patting gently. "Wake up. Come on, Epona." At first, there was no response. Finally, after a few minutes of determined effort on Tara's part, the moss-green eyes opened a little. "Good girl," Tara said quietly. "Here. Drink." And she put the neck of the water skin to Epona's lips. The invalid sucked weakly for a moment or two before her eyes drifted shut. Tara sighed. "Good girl," she said again. Then she gently drew the blanket up to cover the small form.

For all her bravado with Drea, Tara was worried. She'd been a warrior all her life, and she knew that one of the greatest threats to life was infection. How many times had she seen a big, strong man felled by a small wound that had turned necrotic? And Epona seemed like such a frail little thing. Tara turned away from the bed and went through her healer's kit, noting impassively which herbs she needed to replenish. _This is my fault. I saw she had open wounds, and I just left her to lie there overnight in the dirt and the cold. _She sighed and ran a hand through her fiery locks. _Gods, that was stupid. And here I take such pride in taking care of what's mine!_

_It's my gods-be-damned temper. Bloody Hades. _Tara scowled. Then, rising to her feet, she headed downstairs to pay for the room and find something to eat.

By nightfall, Epona was in the throes of full-on delirium. Mostly, she would just murmur nonsense words and give the occasional soft, high-pitched giggle. Tara drew the blanket down to the girl's waist and laid cool cloths over her forehead and the back of her neck. With infinite patience, she bathed the lean face and arms, occasionally pausing to change the poultice on her back. "Come on, Epona," she muttered, laying the damp rag overtop of it again. "Fight it off. You can do it."

The sound of gentle sobbing woke Tara with a start. She blinked – for a moment she couldn't remember where she was. Then she laid eyes on the bed, and her memory came flooding back. _Gods, I must have fallen asleep in my chair. _She rubbed her eyes and looked down at her patient.

Epona was thrashing and whimpering, her skin slick with sweat. Her eyes were open, but they were glazed with fever – Tara doubted she was really aware of much. Quickly, the warrior moved to pin her gently down so that she wouldn't hurt herself. The slave fought it, her soft sobs turning to cries. "Shh. It's all right, Epona." Tara struggled with her for several moments. Then, in a last-ditch effort to calm the girl down, she lay down and drew her against her own body, cradling Epona's dark head in the crook of her shoulder. "You're all right," she murmured, as the slave's sobs grew softer. "Relax." Slowly, Epona's thrashing ceased, and she lay quietly.

Tara looked down; Epona's eyes were still open, staring vaguely out at their room. She reached for the dose of medicine she'd mixed before falling asleep. "Here," Tara said, holding the rim of the cup to Epona's mouth. "Swallow this." The slave drank mechanically. Soon the moss-green eyes closed again, and the slender body went limp. Tara drew her close, feeling the stubborn heat of the fever against her skin, and settled down to wait.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Tara was exhausted.

The warrior stretched out her long body in her chair, her head falling back to rest against the wall behind her. She'd spent countless hours nursing her sick slave, taking very little rest and still less food for herself. The infection had raged throughout the night and the next day, and then on into the night again. Finally, late the next morning, Epona's fever had broken. Tara had spent the next several hours meticulously cleaning the healing wounds and keeping watch over the sleeping girl. Now evening was approaching, and the warrior could feel her own weariness taking over.

_Maybe I should just sleep. _Tara thoughtfully eyed the bed her slave was occupying. _I'd wake up if she stirred, anyway, and I could use some rest._

Before she could make good on this idea, there came a knock at the door. Tara was on her feet before it opened, her hand on the hilt of her dagger. Her muscles relaxed as her eyes fell on the familiar form of Drea. The dark-skinned woman's eyes flicked to the bed. "Hey, we just got in. The Pony doing all right?"

"She's fine," Tara said quietly. "Her fever broke a little before noon."

"Good, good." Drea smiled and glanced over her shoulder. Tara noted the silent presence of Hadrien's servant in the hall. "Listen, I bet you're tired, and it looks like Epona's sleeping. Why don't you come downstairs and drink with us? Unwind a bit. Bernice can watch her for you." The redhead pursed her lips, and Drea moved forward. "Come on, Terror," she coaxed. "I'll buy you an ale, and we can trade battle stories with the boys. You always used to like that, right? And maybe just you and I can talk a bit later."

There had been a definite undercurrent in that last statement. Tara raised a cool brow, noting the sudden gleam in Drea's dark eyes. She considered a moment before turning her piercing gaze on the servant in the hall. Bernice flinched noticeably under the tall warrior's scrutiny. "There's a cup on the bedside table with herbs in it," Tara said coldly. "If Epona wakes up, fill that with water and make her drink it." Bernice nodded. "And if she takes a turn for the worse, you come and get me immediately. Understood?" The servant nodded again. Satisfied, Tara turned back to Drea. "All right. I'll come down." Drea favored her with a wide grin, and the two of them headed down to the common area together.

The mercenaries had taken over three tables in one corner of the dining room. Drea headed for the one where Hadrien and Leander were sitting. Tara sighed as she sat down; she welcomed the cold ale, when it came. It had been a long time since she'd sat and socialized over drinks, and she wasn't entirely sure that she wanted to be doing it now. She drank in moody silence as she listened to the banter between Drea and her two companions. It was mostly boasting about their exploits in their raiding of the gold shipment, Tara noted calmly. Her lips curved.

As the wine and ale flowed, the stories grew more expansive, and their scope widened into other campaigns and battles waged. Drea began to coax a few anecdotes out of Tara about their exploits together. Tara found herself loosening up as the bragging and good-natured teasing went on. The food and ale felt warm in her belly, and she could feel the pleasant buzzing on the edges of her senses as the alcohol did its work. She couldn't help but notice that Leander and Hadrien were smiling more. Neither dared to tease Tara, even in jest, but they did address her a few times, and the atmosphere was far less tense.

After a couple of hours, Drea scooted her chair over a little and leaned over toward Tara. The redhead felt one of the woman's hands rest on her thigh. "Want to come to my quarters, Terror?" Drea murmured. "I think we have things we should talk about in private."

There was no mistaking _that_ signal, slightly drunk or not. Tara looked at her with a raised brow, but couldn't keep a slight smile from twitching the corners of her mouth. "Whatever you say, Captain," she said calmly. "Lead the way." Drea shot her a dazzling smile as she got up from the table.

The moment the door of Drea's room closed behind them, Tara found herself caught in the other woman's powerful embrace. Drea's lips captured hers. Tara could taste the wine the smaller warrior had been drinking. She felt a burning in her gut as she slid her hands down to rest in the small of Drea's back; she could feel the rough leather and smooth brass of the woman's armor beneath her palms. "Mm," Tara murmured, deepening the kiss. The two of them had been lovers for nearly two years, and while they had broken it off shortly before Tara had left Vasilus's group, she couldn't deny that Drea still attracted her. She felt for the clasps of Drea's armor and began to undo them.

"Oh, Hades," Drea groaned, dropping her head down to bite at Tara's throat. "You're every bit as good as I remember."

The taller woman gave a low chuckle as Drea's shoulder armor clattered to the floor. "You don't know that yet. Maybe my finish is lousy." She jerked impatiently at the bracers on the dark-skinned woman's arms, and they came loose. "I could be out of practice, you know."

Drea snorted. "Not bloody likely." She began to fumble at the ties of Tara's tunic, as the larger woman's long fingers plucked at the heavy leather skirt that protected Drea's upper thighs. "I've been around, and I think you've got a shot at claiming to be the best lay in Argonia."

As tired and full of ale as she was, Tara couldn't help laughing. "I'll have to put the bards on notice. All they've been singing about lately is my killing prowess, and my possible demigodhood." The last of Drea's armor fell away as her own shirt fell open. She bent to kiss the smaller warrior's mouth as her long hands tugged at Drea's tunic. The two of them stumbled to the bed and fell into it, with Tara still deftly removing her bedmate's shirt.

It was very different with Drea than with her slave. Drea's body was solid and muscular, and she was every bit as aggressive as Tara was. The redhead, however, was stronger. She suddenly rolled on top of the dark-skinned woman, pinning her on her back, and thrust her thigh in between hers. Drea gave a strangled gasp, her back arching. With a predatory grin, Tara began to devour her mouth, her hands stroking and teasing every inch of skin she could find. It was exciting. It was exhilarating. It was…

…Exhausting. Tara found herself dozing on Drea's pillow an hour or so later, lying on her side. Their limbs were still entangled. The redhead wanted nothing more than to fall asleep. "Should go check on Epona," she mumbled, opening her eyes a crack.

"Nope," Drea said cheerfully, with her dark eyes half closed. "You should stay right here and get some sleep, Terror. Bernice'll watch your Pony." Tara hesitated. "C'mon. You said yourself that she was feeling better, right? And Bernice will come get you if anything goes wrong." Drea's callused hand slid down Tara's thigh. "Stay here. You know you want to."

The temptation was great. Tara wavered, and finally sighed. "Oh, all right," she grumbled, relaxing and closing her eyes. "But if something happens to her, I'm going to kick your ass."

Drea chuckled. "Deal." She licked up the length of Tara's throat, and gave another small huff of laughter; her breath sent goosebumps racing across Tara's damp skin. "Good night, Terror." The redhead gave an incoherent growl as she slowly fell into a light sleep.


	14. Chapter 14

Epona's back ached. Her head was throbbing – sharp jolts of pain stabbed through her broken arm every now and then. She wanted desperately to sleep again, but her whole body hurt, and unconsciousness refused to come. She kept her eyes closed. She could hear someone in the room with her, and she had no doubt that it was Tara…Epona felt a cold wash of terror at the very thought. Even if the woman had been nursing her gently since her beating, Epona couldn't shake the memory of the snarl on the woman's face, or the viciousness of the attack.

Just then, her arm gave an especially sharp throb of pain, and Epona couldn't quite restrain a whimper. A soft, warm hand stroked her cheek a moment or two later. "Pony? Are you awake, little one?" came a gentle voice. With a faint gasp of relief, the slave girl opened her eyes.

It wasn't Tara's grim face that leaned over her, but Bernice's. The woman smiled as she caught Epona's gaze, and cupped the invalid's cheek. "Hello there," she said softly. "How are you feeling?"

The little slave felt her lip quiver. She wanted badly to be brave, but she felt thoroughly miserable, and she was far too tired to lie. "It hurts," she whispered.

Bernice's brow puckered. She leaned down and kissed Epona's forehead. "I know, Pony," she said. "I'm sorry." A sad little smile curved her lips, and she stroked the girl's pale cheek. "You were so brave, little one! I was proud of you."

Brave? Epona looked up at her in puzzlement. She remembered having tried to stop her murderous owner from killing the young man, but she didn't really think she'd shown much courage. All she'd felt at the time was fear and horror. Throwing herself at Tara hadn't even really been a conscious decision. Epona had just seen what was about to happen, panicked, and acted without thought. If she'd been able to think it through in cold blood, she didn't think she'd ever have been able to step in front of Tara – let alone when the woman was wielding her savage blade and looking like some kind of a battle demon. "Was stupid," Epona muttered.

The servant sighed and smiled, resting her hand on the slave's forehead. "Maybe," she said. "But it still took courage, my dear." Her thumb caressed Epona's brow. "Where does it hurt?"

"Hurts everywhere." The slave's moss-green eyes were full of pain and exhaustion. She almost wished that she was still lost in her fever; at least then she'd been able to sleep. "Where…where's…?" Her voice broke.

Bernice understood. "Your owner's with Captain Drea and the others downstairs," she said. "I don't think you'll see her until morning. The captain said she'd made plans." Epona nodded a little, not without some relief.

It was rather strange for Epona to think about what she'd done – standing up to the furious warrior like that. She could still see the look of dumbfounded shock and fury that Tara had given her, just before the world had exploded into agony and terror. _What was I thinking? _Epona wondered. Just before Tara had drawn her sword to attack the bound prisoner, the slave had been looking at him. She remembered thinking about how young he was. He'd only been a year or two older than she was, Epona thought, and he'd looked scared. She'd been thinking about how awful it must have been for him to be tied up in a camp full of his enemies, after having seen all of his companions killed. She'd felt sorry for him.

When Tara had suddenly stood up, Epona's eye, ever on the alert for her unpredictable mistress, had been drawn to her. She'd seen how dark the woman's expression was; Epona's breath had caught in her throat. When Tara's eye had fallen on the prisoner, the small slave had seen murder rise up in the brown eyes of her owner.

It had all happened so fast…! Tara had drawn her sword and started toward the helpless boy. Epona's guts had clenched. Visions of her sister's death had flashed before her eyes, and visions of the man that Tara had beheaded only a few days before. All at once, Epona had darted forward. She hadn't had any clear idea of what she was going to do. All she'd been able to think about was the horror and injustice of what was about to happen. She could remember clinging to Tara's arm and babbling something – she wasn't entirely sure what she'd said, but she supposed it must have been something along the lines of begging the woman not to harm the boy.

The warrior had given her that astonished look, and then the violence, which before had been directed at the prisoner, had turned against the small slave. Epona hadn't actually seen the first blow fall. All she knew was that pain had suddenly exploded in her face, and then she'd been sprawled out in the dirt with blood gushing from her mouth. In her pain and bewilderment, she'd watched as Tara killed the boy. Then those frigid eyes had turned on her.

Epona had been absolutely certain that she was about to die. Tara had been completely enraged. The slave could remember sobbing for mercy, expecting to feel the deadly bite of steel at any moment. When Tara had begun to beat her, all Epona could do was cry out in pain.

There hadn't been anyone to help her – there was no Marcella to step in between her and her attacker. The slight girl had screamed herself hoarse under the pitiless blows of the cane. She remembered Tara giving her arm a vicious wrench at one point; Epona had felt something give way. The agony of it had almost knocked her unconscious. She wished that it had put her out, actually. Unconsciousness would have been preferable to the blows of Tara's fists that had followed.

The long, hard night that came after Tara left would have been far worse if it hadn't been for the other camp followers. Epona had huddled there on the ground, sobbing hoarsely and chattering with cold, until nearly all movement in the camp had ceased. Then she'd heard furtive footsteps. It had been Bernice, and a quiet, sandy-haired boy whose name Epona didn't know. They hadn't dared to give her food or treat her wounds, but the young man had spread a horse blanket over the poor girl's shivering body, and Bernice had gathered her up into her motherly arms to comfort her. Epona had cried a little, and the pain of her injuries had kept her from sleeping, but the warmth had helped her body to relax, at least.

Bernice had sung to her, too. Epona was old enough to be a little embarrassed at this, but she'd taken great comfort from it. Her heart swelled with gratitude at the memory.

The little slave sighed and closed her eyes as she felt the woman's hand gently rub over her fingers. It felt good. _And at least I'm in a nice, warm bed now, _she thought. _And I'm not hungry…and it doesn't hurt as much as it used to, I think. It could've been so much worse. _Epona opened her eyes and peered up at Bernice. "Thank you," she whispered. "For…for before, too."

"Don't mention it, little one." The woman smiled. Faint wrinkles appeared at the corners of her eyes and mouth; Epona thought it made her look very kind. She reached up her uninjured hand to touch Bernice's cheek, and felt the woman smile beneath her fingers. "I wish I could make you feel better, Pony," Bernice said gently. "I know you mustn't be feeling well." She brushed the invalid's hair back from her face. "I'm glad your fever's better."

"Me, too." Epona managed a feeble smile.

"You had us worried, my dear." Bernice kissed her forehead. "Is there anything I can do for you? Would you like some water, or –" She stopped suddenly, her eyes widening. "Gracious! I forgot all about it. Your Tara left some medicine here for when you woke up. Wait a moment, and I'll fix it up for you."

Epona grimaced. She had a feeling she knew exactly what was in that cup. It was probably more of the pungent, bitter stuff that Tara had been pouring down her throat ever since her thrashing. Her stomach lurched at the thought. "Do I have to drink it?" she asked pitifully.

The servant gave her a reassuring pat on the head as she poured water into the wooden cup that Tara always mixed her medicines in. "Yes, little lass. I'm afraid you do," she said gently. "Miss Tara was quite clear on that point." She sniffed the cup, gingerly tasted its contents, and made a face. "Whoof! I can see why you wouldn't want to drink it, though."

The slave girl bit her lip and sighed in resignation. "Okay," she murmured. "Maybe it'll at least let me sleep again."

Bernice seemed to be thinking. She regarded the cup closely, and then set it down on the bedside table and gave Epona a conspiratorial wink. "I think I have a bit of an idea, Pony," she said. "You just wait right here – I'll only be a minute." She gave the slave's cheek a gentle pinch. Then she slipped out into the hall, shutting the door silently behind her.

Epona's brow creased. She rubbed her fingertips absently over her blanket as she watched the door. She didn't even really have time to start feeling lonely before she heard footsteps, and Bernice reappeared. The woman smiled down at her and gave her a kiss on the top of her head. "Now you wait a moment, my dear, and Bernice will fix you right up," she said. "No peeking, mind you!" She took the cup and turned from the bed. Epona waited patiently, until finally Bernice smiled and put the medicine in her hands. "There. Try that, and see if it isn't much nicer."

Cautiously, Epona took a sip – her eyes widened in pleased surprise, and she smiled. The servant smiled back. "Good?" Epona nodded, and took another mouthful. The drink was sweet, now; the rich taste of honey tingled on her tongue. There was still a hint of bitterness, but it was much more bearable now. The little slave drank deeply. When she'd finished, Bernice gave her a drink of water and tucked the blankets up under her chin. "There, now," the servant said gently. "Try to rest, Pony. I'll be right here if you need anything."

"Okay." Epona was already blinking drowsily. The medicine was working – she could still feel her aches and pains, but they seemed very distant, somehow. She yawned and closed her eyes. She vaguely felt her hand being clasped between Bernice's, and heard her begin to hum. The soft sound of Bernice's singing lulled Epona to sleep.


	15. Chapter 15

Tara yawned hugely, full of a lazy contentment. Drea was curled up against her, with one arm underneath her shoulders and the other resting on her belly. Every now and then, her callused hand would caress Tara's skin. The redhead slid her own fingers down the curve of Drea's muscular arm. "I suppose it's morning," she remarked.

"Mm." The dark-skinned woman nuzzled Tara's shoulder. "Guess it is. You in a hurry to go somewhere?"

"Maybe," Tara drawled. "I could go and check on my slave. Unless you've got some orders for me, Captain?" A spark of mischief danced in her eyes.

Drea grinned lazily and pulled herself closer, then ran a warm tongue slowly across the length of Tara's collarbone. The redhead gave a delicious shiver. "Hm. Well, not an order, per se," Drea purred. "More like an official request. Stay for a while longer, Terror." Her fingers stroked Tara's belly gently.

The taller woman looked up at the ceiling reflectively. "I suppose I could stick around for a bit," she said, with a pained sigh. "But I get bored quite easily, you know, Drea. What do you have lined up for entertainment?"

"I'll give _you_ entertainment, smart mouth." The Argonian uttered a threatening growl and attacked, her hand sliding down to Tara's hip as she began to nip at the soft flesh of her breast. Tara gave a small burst of laughter and responded in kind. For several minutes, they wrestled for dominance. Then their touches grew gentler, words ceased, and Tara gave herself up to the sensual pleasure.

She came to herself sometime later with her head pillowed on Drea's stomach, and her arms wrapped around the smaller woman's waist. Drea's hands rested against her shoulders; she seemed to be dozing. Tara yawned and slowly began to disentangle herself from the Argonian's body. The dark-skinned woman's eyes flickered and opened, and Tara shot her a quiet smile. "Going to check on Epona," she said.

"I'm sure she's fine," Drea murmured.

"Maybe. But I'm hungry, too." Tara began to dress herself. "Want to join me for breakfast later, Captain?"

"Breakfast." Drea groaned and rubbed her stomach, shooting the redheaded woman a wry look. "You would have to mention food! Now I'm hungry."

"Great. See you in a few minutes downstairs, then?" The taller woman gave her an irritatingly cheerful smile. The Argonian growled and halfheartedly flung a pillow at her, which was easily deflected. With a chuckle, Tara pulled on her boots and slipped out of the room.

The scene in her own room was a welcome one. Bernice was sitting by the bedside, leaning slightly over its occupant; Epona was looking up at her with a faint smile, listening to whatever it was she was saying. Tara paused to study her slave. The girl's face was a little pale, but she looked like herself again, and the spark of intelligence had returned to her large, green eyes. _Good, _Tara said to herself, with a slight sigh of relief. _She's pulled through. _The warrior advanced into the room, drawing the attention of the two women. Epona's smile vanished.

Calmly, Tara moved to the bedside and leaned down to press her palm against Epona's forehead. It was cool to the touch. "You look like you're feeling better," the warrior said. "Did you sleep well?"

"Yes, ma'am." The slave didn't meet her gaze.

Tara looked at Bernice. The woman's eyes fell under hers. "You can go," she said coolly. "You're no longer needed."

"As you wish, milady." Bernice rose quietly to her feet. She took a moment to grasp and squeeze one of Epona's small hands before she took her leave. "I'll see you later, Pony." The slave's eyes followed her until the door closed. Then, timidly, they turned back to peer up at her owner.

Epona was lying on her side with the blanket pulled up to her chest. Tara pulled back the blanket and grasped the slave by the upper arm to steady her as she peered at her back. The poultice still looked damp; she nodded her approval. "Lie on your stomach," Tara instructed. "I think you won't need all that on your back anymore." Without a word, the slave obeyed. The warrior peeled back the rags to expose the girl's skin. The cuts were no longer angry and red; the swelling had gone down, the open wounds were scabbing over, and the flesh around them looked sound and healing. Even the wicked bruises were starting to fade from black to purple around their edges. Tara nodded. "It looks good. You won't need poultices anymore."

"Yes'm." Epona closed her eyes and shivered.

"Let's see your arm." Tara took the slender limb in her hands and carefully unwound its wrappings. It was still swollen and bruised, but the puffiness was starting to recede, and the forearm looked straight – the bones were still together properly. The warrior nodded her approval. "That's good. It should knit well." She replaced the splints and gently bound up the arm again. "Now," she said, laying the injured limb back on the blanket, "are you hungry, Epona?"

Large green eyes studied her gravely. "Yes, ma'am. A little."

Tara's lips quirked. "That's a good sign. I'll see if the kitchen will fix you some gruel later. We'd better not try anything heavier until you're feeling stronger, though." She reached out to slip her fingers beneath Epona's chin, not missing the slight flinch that went through the boyish form as her hand raised. Calmly, she tilted the small face toward the light, studying the bruises and the cut on her lip. "Hm. Looks like your mouth should heal cleanly. Not likely to leave a scar." Tara smirked a bit. "Good thing, too. Don't want to spoil your looks."

Epona said nothing. The warrior released her, not without some wry amusement. _Not going to take the bait, hey, little mouse-girl? No remarks about how I would've been responsible for messing up your looks in the first place? Smart girl. _"I'm going to have breakfast downstairs with Drea," she said calmly. "I'll bring you up something to eat once I've finished. You stay in bed and rest."

"Yes, ma'am." The slave nodded just a little, her expressive eyes averted.

"Good girl." Tara bent to kiss the top of the curly head. "I'll be back," she said, and turned away.

Breakfast was a leisurely affair. There was bread and soft cheese and fruit, and cups of steaming, fragrant tea. Tara first went to the kitchen and put in a request for a bowl of gruel. Then she ate and listened casually to the banter between Drea and her mercenaries. They were disbanding temporarily, she learned, this last heist having earned them enough money to take some time off. Most of the men talked of going home to families or girlfriends.

Tara cocked an eye at Drea. "Have you got someplace to go?" she asked.

"Nah. I've never sat still long enough to put down roots anywhere." Drea gave a nonchalant shrug.

The redhead studied the round, dark-skinned face for a moment before giving a nearly identical shrug. "Neither have I," she said. "I guess I'll probably spend the time resting up here. It'll at least give me a chance to make sure Epona recovers properly, I guess."

Drea's bright eyes caught hers. "Mm. Not a bad idea," she said casually, reaching for a fig. "Maybe I'll stick around here, too. You know, just in case you decide you need someone else to get into trouble with."

Tara couldn't help but grin. "Since when have I needed help with _that?" _she asked, triggering laughter from both of them. Just then, the gruel Tara had requested from the kitchen made an appearance. The redhead rose to her feet and took her leave, carrying the bowl carefully in her hands.

The slave girl was still in bed, the covers pulled up under her arm, but her eyes were open and gazing at Tara as she entered. The warrior set the gruel down on the bedside table. "Can you sit up?" she asked. "It'll be easier if you can." Epona dutifully began to struggle to obey. It soon became obvious that the girl's strength wasn't quite up to the task yet. Tara compromised by stacking pillows and propping the lean body up against them. "Here," she said, placing the bowl in Epona's small hands. Then she plopped herself down in the chair to watch.

Epona's fingers quivered, but she managed to sip at her gruel. Tara's experienced eyes studied her. Although the slave was still quite weak, there was some color returning to her cheeks. All the signs were good. Tara nodded to herself. _I need to toughen this kid up a little if I'm going to be dragging her around with me on campaigns and things, _she mused. _As soon as she's strong enough, I'd better see about doing something about that._

The invalid managed to finish nearly half the bowl before it defeated her. Tara took it from her and laid it down on the table. Then she stretched out her long body on the bed beside her. Cautiously, she drew Epona's slender form into her arms and held her. The dark head rested uncertainly against her shoulder.

"Ma'am?" the slave whispered. Tara looked down; the girl's face was turned away. "I don't think I quite understand you," Epona said softly.

Tara raised a brow, the corners of her lips twitching upward. "Oh? How so?"

A small hand nervously traced the simple pattern on the front of Tara's tunic. "You're awfully confusing, ma'am," Epona murmured. "I mean, you scream at me and threaten me and grab me by the neck, and you beat me with a stick. You look like a daemon when you fight. But then you wash my wounds and bring me food and hug me. I…I don't understand. Which is you?"

The warrior chuckled quietly. "Both." She drew the tip of one callused finger along Epona's cheekbones. "I am a woman of contradictions, _beag luch."_

Tears brimmed in the green eyes and spilled down Epona's cheeks. "Why do you do it?" Her shoulders began to shake. "Why do you hold me and act as if you care? You don't. I know you don't. You don't give a damn if I'm hurting, or that my family's dead, or…you don't care what I think about anything. Why do you pretend that you do?"

Tara's brows lifted. She ran her fingers through the slave's curly mop of hair. "When my horse is thirsty, I take it to water. When my armor's dirty, I clean it. When my sword is dull, I sharpen it." Tara brushed away Epona's tears with her thumb. "And if my slave needs to be held, I hold her." The smaller girl uttered a choked sob, turning to press her face into Tara's tunic. The redhead smiled a bit. "Do you deny that you need to be held, Epona? Would you rather that I sent you to sleep on the floor in the corner, and only touched you when I wanted to take you?"

Epona didn't answer for a moment or two. A couple of sobs broke from her throat. Tara waited patiently. "N-no," the slave whispered finally. "I wouldn't like that either. I…I guess I'd rather stay here."

"Well, then. Silly to complain about it, isn't it?" Tara kissed the top of the girl's head and resumed her idle caressing of the dark hair. "Go to sleep. You're still weak, and you need your rest, Epona." She could still feel tension in the slave's muscles. Tara's lips quirked a bit. "Relax. Sleep. If you're up to it, I'll feed you again when you wake up." Epona closed her eyes in silent obedience. It took some time, but her small body finally relaxed, and she slept.

Tara rested her head back on the pillows and gazed up at the ceiling. _I know why she'd be confused by me. It's not the first time it's happened. _Her dark eyes strayed back to the sleeping girl. _You're wrong about one thing, though, little mouse, _she thought, her gaze softening a bit. _Whatever else might be true, I think I do care if you hurt._


	16. Chapter 16

An evening breeze floated in through the window, a welcome respite from the heat of the day. Tara was leaning back in a chair, stretched out until only two legs of it were still on the floor, and was idly amusing herself by tossing and catching one of her small daggers by the blade. Drea was sprawled on her belly on her bed, lazily contemplating the shadows cast by the sun on the wall of her room. Languidly, the redhead paused in her amusement and turned her dark eyes on her companion. "The boys heading out?"

"Most already have," Drea yawned. "Hadrien's the last one left. He says he's leaving in the morning. Has a girlfriend up north, y'know."

Tara considered this, thrusting her knife back in its sheath. "In that case," she said, "you and I are going to have to find a way to amuse ourselves tomorrow." Drea's brown eyes regarded her with a sparkle of mischief, and Tara grinned. "Other than that, I mean. We do have to get out of bed occasionally."

"Do we? How dull." The smaller woman gave a huff of laughter. "All right, then, Terror. I guess you have an idea?"

"Just one. Maybe you and I can go explore the city tomorrow." The redhead shrugged. "We should be able to find something moderately interesting to do. And if we run out of city, we can always explore around it."

The dark-skinned warrior stretched and yawned. "Sounds good," she agreed. "I haven't had a good romp through Argos in ages." She reached over to tweak the short sleeve of Tara's tunic. "So, you staying the night?" she asked coyly. "After all, I know how much you hate being bored."

Tara couldn't help grinning. "That I do." Then she shrugged again. "Sure, why not? Just let me go check on Epona first."

"You do that," Drea said placidly. She tilted her head to favor the taller woman with a seductive smile. "I'll be here."

The warrior paused in the hall as she reached her own room, surprised to hear soft voices coming from inside. The door was partly open. Tara peered inside with a furrowed brow, and saw that Bernice was sitting on the bed beside her slave. Epona was sitting up and resting in the older woman's arms, her dark head nestled against her. Tara could see the tracks of tears on the girl's pale cheeks.

"It's all right, Pony," Bernice was saying, her voice gentle. "It's only for a few weeks, and then we'll all be traveling together again. It's not forever."

Epona gave a few choked sobs. "Maybe it is," she whispered. "Please, don't leave me here! Don't leave me alone with her." Tara could see the girl's small hands clutching at Bernice's linen tunic, the knuckles white against her skin. "If…if I make her mad again, she'll kill me. She'll kill me, Bernice!" And she wept hard, burrowing her face into the woman's warm and accommodating shoulder.

Tara frowned, and her brown eyes froze to ice. She folded her arms across her chest and listened as Bernice murmured soft and comforting words to the girl in her arms. Once Epona's sobs had faded a bit, the servant patted her head. "Now, lass, don't fret. You'll be all right," she soothed. "Miss Tara does have a temper, but she seems to take good care of you most of the time. You're a good girl. I'm sure it'll be fine."

"She almost killed me," Epona choked. "I thought she was going to. It hurt so much! I…I don't want to be here anymore. I'm scared." More soft sobs. "I want to go home, Bernice."

The servant sighed quietly and dropped a motherly kiss on the girl's head. "I know you do, little one," she murmured. "I know you do. I'm so sorry." There was a pause. "I know it's hard, Pony, but you have to come to terms with this. Your home and your family are gone, love. You need to get past it so that you can adjust to your new role." Bernice gently stroked the black curls. "You're a slave now, Pony. You have to accept that."

"That's not so hard to accept," the smaller girl said bitterly. "I wouldn't have been much more than that even if my town hadn't been razed. It's her…I'm scared of her."

"Good. You should be." Tara's voice cut into the conversation like a razor. Bernice gasped and turned abruptly toward the door, nearly losing her grasp on Epona. The slave uttered no cry, but her face turned several shades paler. She stared at Tara in speechless horror.

Remorseless brown eyes fixed themselves on Bernice. The servant shrank visibly under the icy glare. "You're very lucky that you belong to someone else," Tara said. Her voice was sharp and clear. "Otherwise, you'd be meeting the business end of my blade." There was a tense silence. "I had better not ever catch you slandering me in my slave's presence again," the warrior snarled, "or your master's going to be looking for another servant. Do we understand each other?" Bernice opened and closed her mouth a couple of times before nodding tremulously. Tara stepped aside, shoving the door fully open as she did. "Get out. Now." The servant fairly fled from the room.

Epona seemed to be frozen in terror. Her huge green eyes stared at Tara as the woman approached the bed. A tiny whimper broke from her throat as the warrior's powerful hand caught her by the upper arm. A moment later, they were nose-to-nose, as Tara stooped down to glare directly into the slave's face. "Don't you ever dare do that again," she said evenly. "Ever. Is that clear?"

"Yes, ma'am," Epona whispered, both white and trembling. Then, as tears welled up, "I'm sorry. Please…"

Tara merely glared at her grimly for a few long moments. "You ought to be whipped again." The words were a low and menacing rasp. "You deserve it, Epona."

"Please don't. Please, ma'am." The slave's voice was barely audible. "I won't do it again, I promise! Don't hurt me." Tara gave her a hard shake, and Epona uttered a sob. "Please."

The warrior maintained her cold stare for several moments more. At last, when she judged she had frightened the slave badly enough, she released her painful grip on Epona's arm. "I'll let you off this time," she growled. "But that's only because you're still weak from that fever, and I don't want you dead." The girl collapsed back onto the bed and lay very still, staring up at her mutely.

Tara's touch grew gentler then, as they plucked at the ties of Epona's tunic. "Now," she said, more quietly, "let's take a look at your back." The slave girl lay and shivered, submitting meekly to her owner's strong hands.

The wounds looked good, the warrior thought. They were completely scabbed over now, and Epona's skin was dry, free of any discharge. Tara brushed her fingertips gently over one of the healing cuts. They were going to scar, she judged, despite the careful tending. _If I keep treating them properly, it won't be as bad, though, _Tara thought. _I can probably make them fade to thin white ones, instead of those wide, lumpy ones you sometimes see. _She moved her attention to the broken arm. A cursory inspection confirmed that it was still healing well; the same held true for the cut lip.

Calmly, Tara sat back. "Looks good," she remarked. Epona stared at her, but said nothing. The warrior dressed her and tucked the warm blanket around the small body. "I'm spending the night with Drea again," Tara said. "I'll come and check on you again in the morning." She paused, cocking one reddish-brown brow. "Do you need anything before I leave?"

"No, ma'am." Epona's lips trembled as she whispered the words; her eyes were averted.

Tara eyed the slender girl silently for a moment. Epona's terror of her was obvious, from the quivering of her body to the whiteness of her lips. That was good for now, Tara supposed. She couldn't help but remember how pleasant the girl's face was when she smiled, though – and that smile tended to disappear whenever her mercurial owner was present.

_Huh. _Tara mulled over this new thought for a moment, playing with it like a cat idly swatting a ball of yarn. _Maybe later I'll have to see if I can get the mouse to smile. I'll think about it for a bit – maybe I can come up with a plan that'll work. _"Good," was all she said as she rose to her feet. "Rest well, then. I'll see you in the morning." She shut the door carefully behind her.

Drea was still sprawled out on the bed when Tara slipped back into the room. The dark-skinned woman eyed her; a slow, seductive smile stole across her face. She stretched sinuously and padded across the room to where the redhead stood, as gracefully as a cat. "You know, Terror," she murmured, drawing the tip of a finger down the front of Tara's tunic, "it's been a warm day. Aren't you awfully hot in all those clothes?"

The taller woman laughed. "That has to be the corniest line I've heard you use yet."

"Maybe," Drea said placidly, untying laces with tolerable skill. "I can think up another one, if you like. Or, we could just," and she paused to nip just beneath the tattoo on Tara's neck, "skip the lines altogether."

"In that case, I vote we skip them," Tara smirked. "I don't think I could survive another one like that last one." Her tunic fell open, and she shrugged it off dismissively, shivering as the smaller woman's hands brushed against her sides.

"Good," the dark-haired warrior purred, "because I don't think I can come up with another one that good at the moment." She bit at Tara's shoulder, making the redhead's muscles twitch in reflex. "Straight to the good stuff, then?"

"Why not," Tara said, with a sudden and wicked grin. "I never was one for beating around the bush." And she swallowed Drea's sudden laughter with a passionate kiss.


	17. Chapter 17

Breakfast the next morning was once again the simple bread, cheese and fruit. Tara and Drea took their meal together. Then the redhead took a plate of food upstairs – she'd decided that her slave was probably strong enough to start eating normally again.

Epona was sound asleep when Tara walked in the door. The warrior paused there to look at her, taking in the peaceful face, the dark curls that fell over the white brow, and the small hand curled into a soft fist on the coverlet. Tara felt a sudden, rough affection for her little slave girl. Her lips curved into a smile as she crossed the room and set the plate of food down on the bedside table. Tara knelt down carefully by the head of the bed, leaned over it, and kissed the bridge of the small nose. "Epona, wake up." Slowly, Epona's green eyes blinked open. They widened suddenly at the sight of Tara; the warrior ruffled her hair. "Relax. I brought you breakfast. Hungry?"

"I…yes, ma'am." The girl sat up, rubbing her eyes groggily. She still needed to be propped up with pillows, but she was easily sitting up by herself, Tara noted. The warrior laid the plate in Epona's lap and watched as she began to nibble obediently. Epona's appetite seemed to be improving, as well; she polished off most of what Tara had brought.

"You're getting a lot stronger," Tara said. "I'm glad to see it." She took back the plate. "You'll probably be alone for most of the day today," she added. "Drea and I are going to look around the city. I'll have the innkeeper send someone to look in on you at noon, and bring you something to eat. I'll probably be back around supper time." Epona bowed her head in acceptance. "I want you to rest," Tara said, touching the girl's forehead. It still felt cool. "Even if you are feeling better, I don't want you pushing it. You could make yourself sick again."

The slave nodded quietly. "I'll rest, ma'am," she whispered. Her expression was almost plaintive. "You won't be back until supper?"

"No." Tara moved a stray curl from Epona's cheek. _Kid's getting restless, I think. Guess she'll probably be lonely, too, what with everyone else being gone. Bah. _"Well, maybe I can try to look in on you around noon. I can't make any promises, though. It'll depend on what Drea and I wind up doing to amuse ourselves." She raised a brow. "Do you read, little mouse? Would you like for me to find you a book or two?"

"I read." There was a soft, appreciative gleam in the moss-green eyes. "That would be nice, ma'am."

"All right. It's settled, then. I'll see what I can find for you." Tara roughly tousled the curly locks again. "Now, lie down on your stomach. I'll take a look at you before I go." The smaller girl obeyed, and Tara gently pulled up the back of her tunic to inspect the healing cuts. There was still no sign of returning infection. The bruises were fading from black to purple, with just a bit of yellow around the edges; the warrior prodded one lightly, and saw Epona wince. "Does it still ache?"

The slave looked away. "It hurts," she said quietly, "but it's not so bad as it was. It lets me sleep, ma'am."

"No sharp pains when you move?" Tara ran her fingers gently over the lines of the girl's ribs and shoulder blades. "It doesn't hurt to take a deep breath?"

Epona shook her head. "Just aches."

"Good. That means all of your bones are still intact." Tara sat back on her heels. "And speaking of bones, let's have the arm, little mouse." The girl rolled carefully onto her back and held out her bandaged wrist. Tara carefully unwrapped and inspected it. "It's looking pretty good, considering," she remarked, with a glance up at Epona's face. The slave looked a little green; Tara grinned with amusement. "Look," she said, pointing at Epona's puffy wrist. "Do you see how it's a straight line from here all the way down to your elbow? That means your bones are together properly. If it wasn't straight, that would mean that the broken ends of the bones weren't fitted together; it would cripple the arm if they knitted that way."

"Oh," the girl said faintly.

Tara replaced the splints and began to bandage them in place. "So if you ever have to treat a broken bone on the battlefield," she said, "you know what to look for. Don't ever splint and bandage a limb that isn't properly set."

The moss-green eyes lifted. "Have you ever broken your arm, ma'am?" Epona asked curiously.

The warrior grinned. "Arms, legs, fingers, toes, ribs – you name it. I've popped my shoulder out twice, too." Tara glanced at the bucket of water that sat by the bed. "I think you've got enough here to drink and wet down your bandages with until I get back." Then, with a slight lift of her brows, "Do you need a dose for pain?"

"That would be nice, ma'am," Epona murmured, with a look of relief. "My arm still hurts a lot."

"All right." Tara took the cup she always used for medicines and opened her healer's kit. "I'll leave you an extra dose," she said quietly, "but I don't want you to take it unless you really have to. This mixture can have some nasty side effects if you take too much of it." She measured powdered herbs into the cup, topped it up with water, and swirled it for a moment or two. "Here. Swallow it quick." Epona obeyed, but not without a shudder of disgust at its bitterness. Tara absently gave her a sprig of mint to chew on before she measured out the second dose. "There." She closed her kit and rose to her feet, setting the medicine cup on the bedside table. "You're all set."

"Thank you, ma'am." The slave lay back down and rested her head on her pillow. Tara gave her a careless clap on the shoulder before turning and heading back downstairs.

Drea was waiting impatiently by the door that led outside. Tara favored her with a grin. "You look a little antsy. Been inside too much lately?"

"You know it." Drea glanced back into the inn, her round face crinkling in distaste. "I mean, resting up is one thing, but prison is another. You know how it is."

The redhead nodded as they headed out. She'd been starting to feel a bit confined herself. She lived outdoors more often than not, and a few days inside was enough to make her start feeling claustrophobic. She took a deep breath of fresh air, and saw Drea do the same. Tara chuckled to herself. Her fingers slipped down to her full money pouch. "So," she said lightly, "do you want to hit the market first? That'll leave us the afternoon if we want to tramp around outside of town."

"Sounds good to me." The dark-skinned woman had visibly relaxed already. "We looking for anything in particular, or are we just browsing?"

"I'm looking for something. I want to get Epona a couple of books to read." Tara shrugged one shoulder. "Give her something to do while she's recovering. I might stock up my healer's kit a little, too." _And I want something else – something to use in my little game. Not sure what, yet. _Tara allowed herself a private smile. _I'll know it when I see it._

"Fair enough. Let's go." The two women turned their steps down the street that led toward the open-air market.

At first, Tara contented herself with simply looking. Argos was on a major trade route, and there was plenty to see. There was a stand selling beautifully-decorated ornamental daggers that interested her. She picked up one of them to examine it. The wooden sheath was carved with vines and clusters of grapes, which matched the exquisitely-shaped wooden hilt. Tara half-drew it to examine the blade, and smirked. _Cheap. Probably lousy iron, maybe even tin-plated. I bet it would snap the minute you tried to use it. _She set it down with a sigh and turned away. _Pretty, but not useful. I don't need that kind of garbage cluttering up my gear._

"Hey, Terror!" Drea waved her over from across the street. "I think I found what you were looking for."

Sure enough, the smaller warrior had found a bookseller. The stand was packed full of parchments and bound books. Tara spent nearly half an hour examining the man's wares. Finally, she picked a small tome that seemed to contain a number of stories about wars and heroes and adventures at sea – the sort of thing she liked. _Hopefully Epona will like these, too. _She laid the book down on the counter. "I'll take this one," she said.

"Ah." The bookseller smiled and nodded. "That's an excellent choice. May I make a recommendation?" He hunted for a moment through a shelf, and then laid a slightly larger, leather-bound book beside it. "This is a compilation of the best stories told by local bards over the past five years," he said. "It has lots of swordplay and sorcery and the doings of the gods. I believe you'd enjoy it, if you like this other book."

Tara flipped idly through the second tome. It seemed mildly interesting, so she shrugged and closed it. "All right. I'll take both." She tossed him a coin. "Keep the change," she said lightly, tucking both of her purchases under her arm.

The two women browsed the market with avid interest for the rest of the morning. They even found a leather worker's booth at one point, where Drea ordered herself a spare set of leathers. All in all, it had been a satisfying trip, although Tara still hadn't found the other item she was looking for. "So," Drea said, glancing up at the sun, "do we want to find something for lunch before we start tramping around the countryside?"

"Mm. I guess so." Tara jerked her head in the direction they had come. "Let's go back to the inn to eat. I can give Epona these books, then. I don't want her getting too restless." Her companion was agreeable, and the two of them headed back up the street. Something caught Tara's eye; she stopped suddenly. "Wait. Hang on a moment." And she slipped through the crowd toward the object of her attention.

It was a jeweler's stand, displaying countless gold and silver pieces. Tara's brow creased as she looked them over. The rings she passed over at once, and then, after some consideration, the bracelets. _Too showy, _she told herself. _They aren't the right sort of thing at all. _The warrior turned her attention to the necklaces. Beside her, Drea watched quizzically. "I didn't think you did the jewelry thing," she remarked.

"I don't," Tara said absently. She passed over a number of delicately-wrought silver bands. Then, suddenly, her attention was arrested. She reached out to examine a necklace that hung from a peg to her left.

It was a simple item – just a trinket, really, dangling from a plain silver chain. The pendant was a round of wood, about the size of a coin, which had been smoothed to a glossy finish. An ivory carving of a horse's head had been inlaid into one side of it. It had been finely done; the animal almost seemed to breathe as Tara inspected it. She ran her thumb over its surface, and found it completely smooth to the touch. _Perfect. _Schooling her face into stolid indifference, she raised her eyes to the jeweler's. She let her eyes grow cold and hard; she could feel the dark energy at the core of her rising to the surface. "How much?"

The merchant paled a bit. There was a significant pause before he named his price, and Tara suspected that it was much lower than the one he normally would have quoted. She maintained her cold stare for a moment or two longer. Then, wordlessly, she dropped the coins on the counter, stuffed the necklace into her pocket, and turned away.

Drea fell into step beside her, chuckling. "You are something else, Terror," she said, shaking her head. "What were you going to do if you didn't like his price, run him through?"

"Nothing that drastic." Tara shrugged nonchalantly.

"Heh. Drastic, she says." Drea shoved her thumbs into her belt and grinned. "So, what's with the necklace? You got it for Pony, didn't you?"

The redhead shrugged again. "I'd like her to look as if her owner has some means," she said. "No sense in having my horse all dolled up and my slave looking like a homeless vagabond."

"Mm-hmm. You know, most people would just have had her collared." The dark-skinned woman shook her head.

Tara patted her pocket. "Looks better," she said simply. "Besides, there'd be no point in collaring Epona. She's already branded, and it isn't as if she's difficult to control. No sense in putting a thing that ugly around her neck."

"That's true," Drea agreed thoughtfully. "Pony is pretty easy to manage." She cast Tara a sidelong glance. "Sure you don't want to share her?" Her lips quirked into a mischievous smile. The taller woman turned her head to fix her companion with a stern glare, and Drea laughed. "Oh, relax, Terror. I'm only teasing you." They had reached the door of the inn. Drea opened it and stood aside, meeting Tara's grim gaze with twinkling brown eyes. "After you, O legendary one."

With a disgusted sigh, the redhead let it go. "Fine, fine," she muttered, and stalked into the common room with an impatient air. "You grab us something to eat. I'm going to check in on Epona." Without waiting for an answer, Tara headed up the stairs, taking them two at a time.

The invalid was still in bed, propped up so that she could see out the window. She turned timid green eyes on Tara as the woman entered. "Here," the warrior said gruffly, moving forward and putting the books in Epona's lap. "The small one's about some guy named Orestes, and it looked like it might be interesting. Not sure about the other one. The bookseller said it's a collection of local bards' stories."

Some of the tension in Epona's pale face softened, and she laid her small hands on the two tomes. "Thank you, ma'am," she said gratefully. "It's kind of quiet here. It'll be nice to have other things to think about."

"Yeah. Sure it will." Tara felt faintly uncomfortable, although she wasn't entirely sure why. She pushed the feeling aside and sat down on the side of the bed, slipping her hand into her pocket. _Now, if I play this properly, I should win this round of my little game. _"I found you something else," she said. She let a small smile soften her expression as she met the slave's puzzled gaze. "Close your eyes." Epona obeyed. Tara took one of the girl's dainty hands in her own and pressed the pendant into her palm. "Okay, you can look now."

The changes that passed over Epona's wan face made Tara grin. First came surprise, and then bewilderment, and then – slowly, like a dawning glow – delight. The slave's pink lips curved upward. It wasn't a big smile, and it remained only briefly, but Tara still felt triumphant. _Hah! Made you smile, my gloomy little mouse. I knew I could. _The success of her little whim made her grin. "Do you like it?"

"Yes, ma'am. It's pretty." Epona wasn't smiling anymore, but her eyes still had a soft glow. Tara took it from her and fastened it around her neck. The pendant fell just beneath the defined line of Epona's collarbone, clearing the neckline of her tunic by an inch or so. It suited her, Tara thought. The slave brushed it with a fingertip and lifted her gaze to meet Tara's. "Thank you," she said softly.

"That should make you look like someone takes care of you, at least." Tara ruffled the black curls and stood up again. "I'll make sure someone brings you up something to eat. You should be fine for the afternoon," she said. "I'll be back for supper." Epona nodded quietly, her hands dropping to take up the smaller of the two books. With one last, triumphant grin, Tara headed back to the common room where Drea awaited her.


	18. Chapter 18

Despite the fact that the sun was finally rising, it was still very early. Epona rested her head back on her pillow and gazed up at the patch of apricot-colored sky that was visible through the window to her left. It was a pretty color, she thought. She could feel occasional breaths of cool air caressing her face as the morning breeze filtered in through the window.

It was rather nice that Tara was spending so much time with Drea lately, the little slave mused. It was good not to have to wake up in the woman's arms. As gentle as Tara was when she was holding her, Epona was still deathly afraid of her, and she could never quite rest easily against that broad shoulder.

The woman was a riddle that Epona still couldn't solve. Her moss-green eyes moved over to the books now resting on the bedside table. _Like those. She just did that on her own, without my asking. She didn't have to do it. _Epona's fingers drifted to the pendant that hung around her neck. _Or this. Why? Just because? I don't understand. I just don't understand at all. _Her brow furrowed in bewilderment. _Maybe if I try, I can get her talking a little bit again, _she thought, remembering how the woman had opened up the last time they'd stayed at this inn. _Then maybe I can get her to tell me what she's thinking._

Just then, Epona heard the doorknob turn. She turned her head, expecting to see the tall, powerful form of her owner. Instead, her eyes fell on a shorter, darker figure. Epona went very still; her brows lowered slightly.

Drea leaned on the doorframe, her dark eyes studying the small form on the bed. "Good morning," she said cheerfully, after a moment's pause. "How're you feeling this morning, kiddo?"

"I'm all right, ma'am," Epona said warily. "Can I do something for you?"

"Probably not, in your condition." The warrior grinned a bit as she pushed away from the wall and moved into the room. The door closed softly behind her. Epona's eyes followed her as she made her way to the side of the bed. Calmly, Drea pulled up a chair and sat down. "So how are you, really, kid?" she asked. "Old Battleaxe just grunts and says you're fine."

The slave hesitated. She didn't really trust Drea, but there was nothing threatening in the woman's demeanor. All the same, would whatever she said be relayed back to her owner? "I…guess it kind of hurts," she murmured.

"I bet." The dark-skinned woman's fingers brushed curiously over Epona's bandaged arm. "Broken?" The slave nodded. Drea shook her head and whistled. "Damn." She sat back in her chair. "Can I take a look at your back?"

_Was that a question, or an order? _Epona regarded the warrior for a moment, and then decided that it would be wisest to give her what she wanted. She rolled awkwardly onto her stomach. Drea pulled up the back of her shirt to reveal the healing wounds. Epona heard the woman give another low whistle. "Boy, that old warhorse really did a number on you, didn't she?" she murmured. "Shouldn't surprise me, I guess. You made her pretty mad, you did." Epona felt a callused finger tracing one of the welts. "No wonder you got sick from it."

After a few moments, Drea released her. Epona gingerly lay on her back again, and let her head fall back on her pillow with a sigh. There was silence for a few moments. Epona couldn't help shifting nervously under the scrutiny of Drea's dark eyes. The woman reminded her a little of a rabbit, she thought, with her bright eyes and round face and quick movements. _Only she'd be a kind of dangerous rabbit, _Epona thought. _She'd be a really strong rabbit, with a sword._

Drea interrupted this rather bizarre train of thought by clearing her throat. "So," she said, leaning back in her chair and folding her hands across her belly, "tell me about yourself, kid. How'd you wind up belonging to Terror?"

Epona's brow wrinkled. "She was with the men who raided my town," she said. "I think I was part of her payment for it."

"So you're a new one, then. You've never been a slave before?" Drea cocked her head.

"No." Epona shook her head quietly. "Never, ma'am."

"Hades of an induction," the warrior said sympathetically. "Lose your family?" Epona felt a lump rise up in her throat. She swallowed and nodded. "Aw, kid. Tough break." Drea patted the slave girl's sound arm. "What were your folks? Shepherds, farmers..?"

"No, ma'am." The small slave gazed at her innocently. "My father was Lord Timon Tabor of Minos. I was his youngest."

Drea's brows shot up. "Really?" She grasped Epona's hand and turned it over, inspecting her still-smooth palm, and the calluses on her fingertips from the strings of her harp. "Huh. Will you look at that? The little pony's really a thoroughbred. Who'd have thought?" Drea sat back and regarded Epona curiously. "If you're a noble, you must have family left who'd ransom you out of slavery. Right?"

The girl shook her head. The idea had occurred to her before. "I don't think they would," Epona said gravely. "I was just the youngest of my father's thirteen, and I'm a girl. He didn't think I was worth much. And I don't think Grandfather Tabor ever even saw me…I'd just be a bother to him."

"Hm." Drea nodded sympathetically. "Well, at least they didn't boot you out. My dad tossed me out on my ear when I was nine. Too many mouths to feed." She shrugged and shot Epona a crooked grin. "What are you going to do, right? Things happen." The slave simply stared at her with wide, shocked eyes. Drea laughed shortly. "Oh, relax. I survived it, didn't I? And I'm doing pretty good, I think. It's life – stuff happens."

There was a pause. Epona was relaxing now, as Drea's amiability put her at ease. She looked at the dark-skinned warrior curiously. "Miss Tara said she's known you for a long time. How did you meet her, ma'am?"

The woman grinned and leaned back in her chair. "Now, that's a good story," she said. "I was one of the fighters Vasilus hired for his army. I'd just busted out of the Romusi gladiator pits about a month before that. So we go into this tavern up north, in Olynthus, and we were sitting at this table and drinking. Then, all of a sudden, a brawl breaks out." Drea chuckled. "It was a damned whopper, too. Anyways, all of a sudden, there was this crazy redheaded bitch in the middle of it all, just whalloping guys like nobody's business. She mopped the floor with the lot of 'em! And the best part was, she never even spilled her mug of ale."

Epona thought she could picture that. She nodded thoughtfully. "I bet she could still do that now."

Drea shot her a look. "Now? Terror could take 'em on now without leaving her damn chair," she said. "You've not seen her at her best yet – or her worst, depending how you look at it."

"I saw her in battle," the slave said quietly. "I saw her behead that man, and kill that boy. I saw her when she beat me."

The warrior shook her head with a rueful smile. "Believe me, you still haven't seen a thing. Bitch is insane." She scratched her nose. "Usually comes out in battle. Never forget when I first saw it. We were sacking this village out west of here, and they'd hired some warlord's army to defend 'em. They probably had about eighty guys against our thirty. It was looking pretty bad toward the end – we'd lost eight or ten, and they had us pinned down in this little gully." Drea held her hands out to show how narrow it had been. "So there I was, fighting away, and Tara was a yard or two off on my right. And all of a sudden, I hear her roar like some crazy lion or something. I look, and there she is, killing 'em right and left. It was nuts! She just cut through 'em all like they were nothing more than bits of cheese. She killed about half of 'em by herself, and the rest ran away." The woman shrugged and smiled. "Tara said later that one of 'em nicked her side, and that pissed her off."

"She killed forty people?" Epona said, her moss-green eyes wide.

"Yep. That she did." Drea nodded gravely. "And that was just for starters. That woman might be a lot of things, but when she's on her game, she's the best damn fighter I've ever seen, hands down." She looked up at the ceiling reflectively. "They all talk about the Spartans, and some guy named Achilles, and Hercules. I'd like to see 'em take on Tara. Be one bitch of a fight, either way."

Epona hesitated. "You…and her…used to be…" She stopped as her cheeks grew warm. "No, never mind, ma'am. I'm sorry. That's none of my business."

Drea grinned, her dark eyes sparkling with amusement. "Yeah, we used to have a thing, Tara and I," she said. "Damn, is that woman good in the sack! But I guess you know a thing or two about that, yourself." The slave looked away and swallowed hard. "I'm as close as Tara's come to having a beau," Drea said. "The woman hasn't got a romantic bone in her body, but that's all right. I'm not the poetic type, either." She cocked her head and regarded the slave. "Makes me wonder what she wants with you, kiddo. I bet you're all about the flowers and moonlight, ain't you?"

The small girl looked at her gravely. "Maybe," she said. "I don't really know. I've read lots of stories with great fighters and princes. I used to dream about a handsome warrior coming to swing me up on his horse and take me away and marry me." She looked down and fiddled absently with her bedspread. "But I guess that won't ever happen, now," Epona said sadly. "No prince would want to marry a slave girl."

"Eh." Drea smiled quietly. She seemed to be looking at something very far away. "You know, when I was a kid, I wanted to be a lady. I had these dreams of sitting on silk cushions and nibbling fruit." Her dark eyes found Epona's, and twinkled a bit. "Yeah, I know. Funny, isn't it? A hard-ass like me, ever wanting something like that? Heh."

Epona's brow wrinkled. "No, ma'am," she said softly. "It's not very funny. I think it's kind of sad." Her white hand stole out to rest gently on the warrior's callused brown one.

Drea's brows lifted. She looked down at the little paw resting on hers and frowned. Epona was afraid for a moment, but then decided that Drea looked more confused than angry. The warrior pulled her hand away after a moment or two. "Well, whatever," she said gruffly. "Funny or not, it was a long time ago. No sense wailing about it now." Her familiar grin returned. "Bet you want to rest a bit more, kid. I'll leave you to it. Take care of yourself." She mussed Epona's black curls. "Don't tick off the Terror anymore, all right?"

"I won't," the slave whispered. Her moss-green eyes followed Drea as the woman made her way out of the room and closed the door.


	19. Chapter 19

It had been ten days since Tara had ridden into Argos with her half-conscious slave girl across her knees. Epona had been improving steadily since then. After five days in bed, she'd been able to get up and do a few small chores for her owner. And now…

Tara glanced over her shoulder without breaking her stride. A small figure was struggling up the hill after her, staggering under the weight of the sheathed blade in her arms and the brass shield slung over her back. Epona's face was flushed, and her breathing was ragged. Tara smiled coolly and looked back at her destination – the top of the hill, now only about forty yards away. She hiked her shoulders to settle her armor more firmly on her back.

It took several minutes for the small slave to toil up to where her mistress had stopped. Epona dropped to her knees at Tara's feet, panting for breath; the warrior looked down at her with amusement. "Gimme," she said tersely, extending her hand. The winded girl gave up the sword and then, with some effort, the heavy shield. "Good." Tara tossed her an empty skin. "There's a spring just over there," she said, with a gesture toward a nearby grove of trees. "Go drink and splash your face, if you like. Then fill this and bring it back here."

"Ma'am." Epona stumbled to her feet and went wearily to do as she'd been told. With a grin and a shake of her head, Tara began to buckle her shield onto her arm.

Now that the slave was healthy enough, the warrior had decided to go ahead with her plan to get Epona into better shape. She'd decided to simply incorporate the small girl into her own morning workout routine. Well before dawn this morning, she'd gotten into her armor and shaken Epona awake, and then brusquely told the sleepy girl to carry her arms. They'd walked nearly half a mile to this place, much of the journey uphill. _It'll do for a start, _Tara thought, strapping her sword to her side. _Once the little scrap's started to put on some flesh, maybe I'll take her with me on my run. But that probably won't be for a while yet. _She drew her blade and began to run through her drills.

Before long, she was aware of being watched. Tara glanced out of the corner of her eye. Epona had returned from the spring, her curls now plastered damply to her head. She was sitting cross-legged in the shade of some trees at the edge of the clearing with the filled water skin resting in her lap. Her large eyes were fixed on her owner, regarding her movements with a gravity that almost made Tara laugh. _My frightened little mouse, as somber as a judge. _The warrior grinned to herself and returned her attention to the motions of her blade and her body.

It had been some time since she'd gone through her entire bag of sword tricks. Normally, Tara had a routine that lasted for a little over a half-hour, consisting mainly of movements that worked the strength and flexibility of her arms and back. But now, feeling the girl's wondering gaze, Tara decided to show off a bit. She began to whirl her blade in more intricate patterns.

As her routine progressed, Tara added more and more twists and acrobatics. Despite the depth of her concentration, she could hear occasional gasps coming from her captive audience. She couldn't help grinning again, if only for a moment.

_All right. _The warrior landed a spinning kick and paused, judging her footing and readying her body for what she was about to do. She looked briefly over to where Epona was. The little slave was up on her knees, her arm resting on a wide tree stump, watching her in wide-eyed fascination. _Let's give the little scrap something to gape about. _Tara's eyes narrowed. She gathered her strength and hesitated for an instant.

Then her body exploded from the ground! She leaped almost to her own height, her body twisting and flipping rapidly as her blade wove a whirling silver net around her. She heard Epona exclaim softly as her feet touched the ground; she leaped again, higher and farther than before, her momentum carrying her as if she were taking flight. Tara twisted herself around and landed facing the girl with her knees bent. After a moment's pause, she whipped her sword casually up to rest against her shoulder, and straightened up. "There," she said calmly. "Guess that about does it."

The slave girl's eyes and mouth were both wide open. Her small hands, clenched into fists against the rough wood of the stump, slowly relaxed. "Wow," she whispered.

Tara raised a brow, keeping herself from grinning only with an effort. "You like?" Wordlessly, Epona nodded. Tara sauntered forward to where the girl knelt. Stooping down, she slid two fingers beneath the slave's slack jaw and pushed it closed. "Catching flies?"

"N-no, ma'am." Epona looked confused. "What…flies?"

The warrior rolled her eyes. "Never mind." She held out her hand for the water skin, and the slave gave it up. Tara drank deeply. Then, tossing it back, she began to loosen the straps on her shield. "Stand up." The slave girl scrambled to obey. Tara put her shield down, letting it rest against her leg as she fumbled with the buckles that held her armor on. She was wearing only the plates that went over her shoulders. Normally, she would have put on her full set of armor, but she didn't think Epona was quite ready to carry that much weight. She lifted the heavy plate off her own body and laid them on the slave's skinny shoulders, tightening one strap so it wouldn't fall off. "Here," she said, pulling her sheathed blade from her belt and thrusting it out. Epona took it in her arms. Lastly, Tara lifted her shield and slung it across the slave's slender back by its carrying strap. Epona staggered. "Carry that back to the inn," Tara said calmly. "Don't dawdle. I'm going on my run. I want my breakfast ready in our room by the time I get back, understand?"

The curly head bowed, but not quite quickly enough for Tara to miss the dismay in the moss-green eyes. "Yes, ma'am."

"Put my armor and shield next to my cleaning kit," the warrior instructed sternly. "And don't forget to put my sword away properly. In fact, do it all properly, or I'll tan your jacket for you. Or maybe the seat of your pants."

Epona shivered visibly. "Yes, ma'am."

There was a pause. Tara raised a brow. "Well? Get running. Or do you want to find out what happens if you haven't obeyed me by the time I get back?" Shooting her a wide-eyed look, the slave girl turned and stumbled off down the hill. Tara watched her go for a while. Then, with a slow shake of her head and a low chuckle, she turned her back on the distant city and loped into the woods, her speed picking up as she fell into her stride.

The sun was almost fully up now, with only a sliver of its bottom curve still hidden by the horizon. The trees soon hid it from view. There was less light in the woods, and the foliage still held some of the chilly morning mists. It felt good on Tara's skin. She breathed deeply, enjoying the sense of well-being that was flooding her. _Ah. Now that's what I wanted. _Her brown eyes glowed.

She had a bit of an ulterior motive in her running today. She'd been plotting her course differently every morning, until she had a fairly deep knowledge of the terrain all around Argos. The day before, she'd come across a warm stream, and she suspected it would lead her to a hot spring if she followed it to its source.

And hot springs, Tara reflected, were an excellent thing to know about.

She grinned to herself. _Wonder if my little mouse has ever seen one? Bet she hasn't. There aren't any around her backwater berg that I know about, and she said she'd never left the place. _She turned her steps toward the warm stream. _Maybe I'll have to bring her up here and show her, depending on how far away the place is. Hopefully it's close enough so I won't have to carry the little squirt up there piggyback._

_Although…_ Tara gave a wolfish smile, imagining the warm weight of the girl on her back, and her slim legs locked around her waist. _There might be advantages to that._

_Enough of that, you old whore, you. _The warrior sped up. _Places to go, hot springs to find. Save the drooling over cute little mopheads for later._ She'd found the warm brook – it steamed gently in the cool morning air. Turning her steps uphill, Tara ran tirelessly along its banks, her sharp eyes searching the woods ahead for any sign of the stream's source.

To her surprise, it didn't take long to find it. Barely ten minutes later, she came upon a fairly level spot on the hillside. Tara slowed her steps as she approached what looked like a pond. She could see steam curling faintly from its surface. The bottom and sides of the pool were covered with smooth pebbles – they looked like they'd be easy on bare feet. The warrior stooped down to dabble her fingers in the water, and found it very pleasantly warm. Her lips curved into a smirk. "Well, this is nice," she said out loud. "Better try it out." Her clothes were discarded to the ground a moment later, and Tara waded into the steaming water.

It felt wonderful. The warrior breathed in the sulfur smell of the water and moved to the middle of the pool. It came up to well above her waist. Tara found herself a spot to sit where the water would come to her chin, and leaned back with a contented sigh. _Oooh, this is good. Epona will love it. _The redhead's eyes glowed. _I bet it'll make her smile again, and that'll be two points for me. Hah!_ She could feel the heat of the water loosening the stiff muscles along her back and shoulders.

This realization made Tara sigh and rise to her feet. She waded from the water, shook herself, and flicked the excess moisture from her skin with her fingers. "Can't just lollygag around here all day, Tara," she muttered, beginning to throw her clothes back on. "You've got a run to finish, and then breakfast to have."

_And maybe a little mouse to have, too? _The warrior smirked. _My, my, I am in a mood. Maybe I missed my calling. Should've been running a brothel, or something. _She pulled on her boots. Without hesitation, she began to run again, heading in the same direction she'd been going in before.

It was nearly an hour later by the time she jogged back into the courtyard of the inn where she was staying. She was starting to breathe harder by then, and a fine sheen of sweat was building on her skin. Tara mopped her brow as she slipped into the common room. Breakfast was just beginning to be served. A casual shout from a corner table caught her attention as she made her way toward the stairs.

"Hey, Terror." Drea raised a mug of cider in greeting. She was sitting beside a small, unfamiliar girl with straight, black hair and olive skin. Her arm was thrown casually over the young woman's shoulders. "Been out throwing rocks around again, have you?"

"Just running. No rocks." Tara shrugged and shot the dark woman a half-smile. Her quick eyes took in the blush on the young stranger's cheeks, and the possessive way Drea was holding her. Tara's smile widened a touch. _Drea. Wine and women, indeed. Looks like you've landed yourself another one._

"Join us for breakfast?" The smaller warrior waved her mug at an empty seat.

"Not today," Tara said calmly. "I told Epona to bring it to my room for me."

"That so?" The woman's dark eyes flickered just a bit. She shrugged and leaned back in her seat to take a long drink of her cider. "Well, suit yourself then, O deadly demigoddess. Take your time." She tightened her grip on her conquest and grinned. "Catch you later. Maybe."

"Maybe," the redhead agreed, with a low chuckle, and slipped up the stairs.

When she opened the door to her room, Tara paused and frowned. The shutters had been pulled, and the room was very dark. Her eyes narrowed. She stopped there in the hall, letting her vision adjust to the dim light inside. "Epona?" Something moved in the corner to her right – the corner farthest from the bed. Tara looked and saw the girl huddled there. She had her arms wrapped around herself, and she seemed to be trying to disappear.

A scowl creased Tara's face. She stalked over to the window, threw the shutters open, and turned to face the slave. Epona didn't look up. Her pale face turned away from the light as she cringed.

_What in Hades is going on, here? _The warrior's gaze flicked quickly around the room. Her armor, sword and shield had been carefully put away. There was no trace of any breakfast tray, however, and the washbasin was lying in the middle of the floor; a damp, wadded-up towel rested beside it. Tara's sharp eyes noted that the slave's curly hair was still very wet.

Tara couldn't decide whether to be angry or bewildered. _What? I gave her more than an hour to do those simple things. Instead of doing them all, she…what, does some of them, then takes a bath and sits in a dark room until I get back? _She folded her arms across her chest. "Epona." Her voice rang out like the crack of a whip. The slave flinched, now obviously crying. "Look at me when I'm talking to you!"

Slowly, the wet green eyes lifted to meet the blazing brown ones of her mistress. Tara's scowl deepened as she took in Epona's expression. The slave's face was full of anguish and resignation, as if she'd already accepted her coming punishment. _This doesn't make sense, damn it. _"You didn't bring my breakfast up here. Why not?"

"I'm s-sorry." Epona's voice was hoarse and faint, as if she'd been sobbing for a long time. "I'm sorry," she whispered again, and let her head drop. Her small body slumped farther into her corner, as if she was too tired and afraid to do anything else.

The warrior was mystified. _I should whip her senseless for this. I should. She deliberately disobeyed me, but…but why? What in the world possessed her?_ "I said that I'd beat you if you didn't do what I told you," she growled. "Why didn't you?" Epona only whimpered softly. Tara lost her temper. Crossing the floor with one long stride, she seized the small girl by her arm and jerked her to her feet! Epona gave a squeal of terror and pain. As Tara pulled back to strike her, something glinted at her from the floor. She paused, her flashing eyes peering down at it. A pendant on a broken chain lay forlornly on the wooden planks.

Suddenly, it all made sense. Without relinquishing her hold on the wretched slave's arm, she stooped down to pick up the necklace. Tara examined it; one of the links had been broken, as if it had caught on something and snapped. Her brown eyes flicked back to the slave's face, and narrowed. "What's this?" she asked coldly.

Epona was trembling so hard that her teeth were chattering together. Her frightened eyes pleaded. "A…a…accident," she sobbed out.

Tara's flare of temper cooled a bit. _I see how it is. She probably caught it on something and broke it, and she's been waiting here for me to come back and whip her for it ever since. Still doesn't explain the bath, but…oh, whatever. _Her hand closed over the trinket. _Damn kid. Now what? I told her I'd thrash her if she didn't do what I said, but…damn._ The warrior felt an unusual reluctance. _I don't feel like beating her, but I promised her I would. Can I let her off without losing face, here? _Tara considered the problem for a moment.

Then, with shocking suddenness, she pulled back her arm and backhanded Epona! The blow caught the slave full in the side of the head and threw her to the floor. Tara gazed coolly down at the sobbing girl at her feet. "That," she said icily, "was for not doing what I told you to do." There was silence, broken only by the whimpers of the slave. Epona made no move to stand, or to shield herself from possible further blows. "Now, you get up, go downstairs, and get me my food," Tara commanded. "Do that, and maybe I'll think about not skinning you alive." The wretched girl crept from the room, still weeping softly and nursing her bruised cheek.

With an aggrieved sigh, Tara turned to one of her bags and dug in it until she'd found a tool that she used to repair her armor. Taking it and the broken chain, she stepped over to the window. A few moments' work was sufficient to repair the break; it was a simple matter of removing the broken link, and fastening together two sound ones. With this done, she tossed the tool back into its place and went to sit on the bed.

Epona soon reappeared with a tray containing a bowl of porridge, some fruit and a mug of cider. She knelt down at Tara's feet and held up the offering. She'd stopped crying, but her slender body was still quivering with fear.

Tara took the tray without commenting, setting it aside. Then she opened the necklace and looped it around the curve of Epona's neck. Epona uttered a little sob as her owner fastened the catch. Tara gave a black curl a gentle tug as she finished this operation; miserable green eyes timidly met hers. "Next time," Tara said quietly, "finish whatever I told you to do, and worry about things like this later."

The slave's head bowed. "Yes, ma'am." Her shivering didn't diminish.

With a sigh, the warrior moved back on the bed until her back rested against the wall. "C'mere." Epona obediently slipped up onto the bed beside her, and allowed herself to be drawn against her owner's body. Tara pulled the curly head into her shoulder; she felt the slave cuddle up against her, and the small face bury itself in her shirt. With a resigned shrug, Tara pulled her breakfast tray up and began to eat with one hand, still cradling Epona's dark head with the other.

_Bloody Hades. All this nonsense over a damn broken necklace. _Tara shook her head as she ate her porridge. _Some days, Epona, I swear that I'll never understand you._


	20. Chapter 20

Tara woke up with an almost breathless sense of anticipation. She looked down at the girl sleeping peacefully in her arms and grinned. _This morning, I introduce you to my lovely find just up the mountain, little mouse. I wonder if you'll like the surprise?_ She examined the faint bruise on the white cheek, left by the blow she'd dealt her the day before. It lay just below the slowly-healing bruises from the beating. She felt a vague sense of regret at having struck the girl. _I'd better not be so free with my promises of punishments from now on. Not if I don't want to follow through with them, anyway._ Tara bent her head to kiss the battered cheek gently. "Wake up, _beag luch._ It'll be dawn soon."

One sleepy, green eye opened and regarded her almost sulkily. The slave didn't speak, but the look of grumpy drowsiness on her face made Tara chuckle and kiss her again. "Come on, my sleepy girl. Up and at 'em! You and I have some exercising to do." She released Epona's body and rolled out of bed. The slave yawned and sat up. She was still rubbing the sleep out of her eyes as her owner finished dressing. Tara tugged her insistently out of bed and gave her a playful swat on the bottom. "Into your clothes, now. I want you ready in five minutes, you hear?" Then she turned away to prepare her gear.

"Yes'm." Epona yawned again and groggily climbed into her tunic and short leggings. Her left hand was clumsy because of the splints and bandages, but she was still ready by the time her mistress turned to her again. Tara gestured for Epona to come, and then loaded her shoulder armor, shield and sword onto the slave. The smaller girl stumbled after her owner as the two of them stepped out into the pre-dawn darkness.

This little project was costing her a bit of time, Tara noted as they left the city. She had to keep her pace down to a brisk walk as they went up the hill so as not to lose her panting slave. The girl struggled gamely on, though, and made no complaints. The warrior cast her an amused look. Epona's mouth was set in a determined line. With a grin, Tara reached over and ruffled the black curls. "It'll get easier," she said comfortingly. "In another couple of weeks, you'll be jogging up hills like this." Epona looked at her doubtfully, but said nothing.

When they reached the top, Tara took her equipment from the girl and donned it with a businesslike air. "Go fill the water skin," she instructed. "But no sitting down this time. I'm not done with you yet." The slave nodded with a touch of dismay and went to do as she was told.

The sword drills didn't take too long. Tara stuck to her shorter routine this time, despite her itch to show off again. _You don't need to make her jaw drop this morning,_ she reminded herself. _Save that for when you introduce her to the joys of hot springs. Heh._ Her lips twitched upward as she practiced her backhanded strokes. She spared a glance at Epona. The girl stood quietly, her eyes gravely following her owner's movements. With another small smirk, Tara turned her attention back to her drills.

When she'd finished, the warrior took off her armor. The slave came forward dutifully to collect her burden again. "This morning's different than yesterday," Tara said. "You're not going back to the inn just yet. I want you to come with me on my run."

"Your…run?" Epona's dismay was obvious.

"My run." The warrior lazily stretched her long limbs. "Not the whole thing, of course. Just a little ways up that mountain – less than half an hour." Epona said nothing, but Tara could almost hear her despairing groan. She grinned. "You'll thank me for all this in a month or two, once you start putting on some muscle. Who knows? You might even start to enjoy it." She clapped the girl's lean back. "Come on, now. Let's go. Pick up those feet." And Tara began to jog up the next slope, keeping her pace slow. The small slave puffed after her.

The run to the hot spring, which had taken Tara perhaps fifteen minutes the day before, did wind up taking nearly half an hour at Epona's slower pace. The warrior's dark eyes lit up as the gently-steaming pool came into sight. She looked behind her; the slave was panting and stumbling under the weight of the gear she was carrying. She looked nearly ready to drop. Tara smiled and slowed down; she finally came to a stop at the edge of the hot spring. Epona staggered to a spot about ten feet away and fell down on her knees, gasping for breath.

"Heh." The warrior moved to where the slave knelt and generously divested her of the heavy gear. Then Tara held out the water skin. "Here, little mouse-girl. Drink a little." Epona obeyed. After a minute or two, her breath came easier, and she began to look around. Seeing this, Tara smiled and pointed at the spring. "Have you ever seen one of those before?"

The weary slave girl raised her eyes to the pool. Tara watched as the exhaustion in the girl's face was supplanted by curiosity. "That pond's steaming," Epona said, her gaze sharpening. "It's…hot?"

"That's right. It's a hot spring." Tara grinned. "Ever seen one before?"

"No, ma'am." Weariness forgotten, the slave girl got up and approached the warm pool. She looked intrigued as she crouched down and trailed her fingers in the water. Her nose wrinkled. "Whew, it stinks!"

Tara chuckled and began to shuck off her clothes. "Yes. Most of 'em do. It's the rocks and things the water comes out of, I think." She jerked her head in the direction of the water as she tossed her tunic aside. "Come on. Strip down and get in. I tested it yesterday, the water's great."

"Oh." Epona slowly got up again. She shifted nervously from foot to foot as Tara threw the last of her clothes aside and waded into the water. The warrior paused to raise a brow at her, and Epona blushed. "Um…"

The redhead grinned suddenly, her dark eyes sparkling with amusement. "Come on now, little mouse. Don't tell me you're all self-conscious?" Epona's blush darkened noticeably, and her gaze dropped. Tara laughed. "You haven't got anything that I haven't already seen, you know. Seen, and touched." The slave squirmed with obvious embarrassment. Tara's grin became positively mischievous. "Either you strip and hop in yourself, or I'll toss you in with all your clothes on. Do you want have to go all the way back into town sopping wet?"

"N-no, ma'am." Epona's green eyes widened at the threat. She began to slowly unlace her tunic.

Tara sat down with a deep sigh of satisfaction, resting her back against a large rock. She leaned back to watch the slave undress. Epona's eyes were averted, but the continued dark pink of her cheeks showed her discomfort at the scrutiny. She slowly let her tunic fall to the ground. For a long moment, she hesitated. Her moss-green eyes met Tara's and pleaded mutely. The warrior gave a soft huff of laughter, considered, and finally relented. Tara turned her gaze up to the sky, watching the sky soften with the early morning light. She heard the rustle of cloth. Then, a moment later, there came a soft splashing. Tara looked to see Epona crouching in the water nearby. The girl looked at her, and a faint, timid smile played about the corners of her mouth. "It's kind of nice," she said softly.

"Told you. Figured you'd like it." The warrior grinned and extended an arm. "C'mere." Epona hesitantly obeyed. When she came near enough, Tara grasped her by the wrist and pulled her close until she was sitting across the warrior's lap. Tara circled the girl's slim waist with her arms and rested her head back against the stone with a contented sigh. "There, now. Doesn't that feel good?"

"Yes, ma'am," Epona whispered. Tara felt her lean hesitantly into her body, and then the warm weight of her curly head rested against the warrior's chest. The redhead let her body relax almost fully. Her senses were still alert, constantly scanning the clearing for any signs of trouble, but her attention was mostly taken up by the pleasure of the hot water and the slender girl sitting on her lap.

After a long, luxurious soak, Tara finally stirred. Her hand began to work its way up Epona's back, gently rubbing the lean muscles. "I bet you're a little stiff from all this new exercise," she said. "Maybe I should teach you how to stretch out properly, _beag luch._" Epona murmured with pleasure as Tara's strong fingers kneaded at her shoulders. She arched the back of her neck into her touch. Tara complied with the wordless request, massaging up to the base of Epona's skull and down again. The slave sighed and shifted a little so that the rubbing fingers would hit the sore spots. Tara smiled. She leaned forward a bit, pressed her lips against the damp skin on the side of the slender neck, and nibbled. Epona shivered and groaned.

The response encouraged Tara. She pulled her slave closer and increased her ministrations, drawing Epona's head up so she could neatly capture her lips. The smaller girl whimpered. Tara laughed low in her throat and slid her palm down a slim thigh. She couldn't see it, since it was underwater, but she felt Epona's muscles shudder under her teasing touch.

It was different this time, Tara thought after a while, as her slave's cries rang out through the glade. The girl had never fought her, exactly, but there had always been a thread of tension beneath her submission – a certain unstated resistance. This time, Epona was like putty in her hands. The girl's body abruptly stopped writhing, and Tara heard her utter one last cry before falling limp in her arms. She clung to the warrior helplessly, like an infant, gasping for breath. Tara held the curly head above water and studied the girl's face, now slack and drowsy. She could read nothing in the half-closed eyes. The fact irked her. "Why didn't you fight me?" she demanded.

The moss-green eyes opened wide in bewilderment as they lifted to hers. "Fight you, ma'am?" Epona whispered. "I've never fought you."

"No. That's…" Tara stopped, scowling in irritation. She hated having to explain herself. "No, you've never really resisted me. But you've never really submitted before, either. Now you're just giving in to me. What's changed?"

Epona stared at her for a long, silent moment, her large eyes still inscrutable. Then she slowly lowered her gaze. "Nothing's changed," she said softly. "I…I belong to you now. You're stronger than I am. It's not like I can get away from you. There's no home for me to go to, even if I could. I've…" Her fingers traced Tara's muscular arm with a touch almost feather-light. "I guess I've just finally accepted it." The girl's voice was quiet, full of dull resignation.

There was something Tara didn't like in that statement. She narrowed her eyes and analyzed Epona's words. "Are you saying that you don't like it when I touch you?" she demanded harshly. The idea made her unaccountably angry. Tara glowered at the girl, even as she struggled to make sense of her own reactions. _Why should this even matter to me? I never cared whether any of my other slaves liked it. Who cares if she does?_

The slave peered at her nervously. "No, ma'am. I'd never say that."

"You wouldn't, would you." Tara's eyes narrowed even more. "Now how about you answer the question, slave?" Epona flinched, and the warrior gripped her by the upper arm, squeezing mercilessly tight. "Do you like it when I touch you? And don't you dare lie to me!"

Tears of pain filled Epona's eyes, but they didn't fall. "Most of the time it feels good," she whispered. "But sometimes you hurt me, ma'am. I don't like that."

There was something oddly appealing in the way Epona was looking at her – appealing, and strangely familiar. Tara's anger drained away as she stopped, trying to place the feeling. There was a memory here somewhere. What was it? And then, as Tara moved her arm to better support the slender back, the memory came. A small, pale, sickly face filled her mind's eye. Her heart almost stopped.

_Maggie._

Tara was eight years old when she met her one day in the crowded marketplace. She'd spent that morning lurking around the food stands, trying to steal something to eat for breakfast, and had finally succeeded in filching a large, sweet, sticky bun from a cart while the baker was distracted. She was busily devouring her prize when she suddenly caught sight of a small, ragged figure on the curb.

The redheaded girl stopped and peered over at it with sudden interest. It was a little girl, a bit younger than she was, with shaggy brown hair and impossibly large eyes. She was dressed in tattered boy's clothes, most of which was much too large for her, and had a battered, brown cap pulled low on her small brow. Slim wrists and delicate hands poked out from the rolled-up sleeves of her shirt. As Tara watched, the little girl took off her cap, laid it on the ground in front of her, and sat back to wait.

A beggar. Tara had seen them before, but never one her own age. She sauntered over to where the small girl was sitting and stood looking down at her. The child peered up at her with equal curiosity. Her wide, brown eyes fell on the half-eaten bun in Tara's hand, and a certain wistfulness entered them. The redhead knew at once that the beggar was probably very hungry. After a moment's hesitation, Tara tore the sweet bread and extended half of it toward the little urchin. "I'm Tara," she said gruffly, by way of introduction.

"I'm Maggie," the beggar said softly. Her little paw grasped the offering, and a sweet smile lit up her grubby face. "Thanks." Tara promptly sat down beside her on the curb, and the two children ate companionably.

The child had been much different from Tara. Even at that age, Tara already knew how to fight, and was a well-known little scrapper. Maggie was a year younger, and was a much quieter, gentler soul. She was an orphan, her father having abandoned her at birth and her mother having died of some illness a year or two ago. She slept in an alley near the market, in a pile of rags that she'd collected beneath an old, wooden awning.

The two little girls became fast friends. For the next two years, they did almost everything together. Tara joined Maggie in her begging, and taught the younger girl how to steal. Between the two of them, they usually managed to eat pretty well.

Then came an especially cold and damp winter. Maggie started to cough a few weeks before Christmas. At first it didn't seem too serious – the child was paler than usual, and didn't have as much energy, but still was able to go with Tara on their normal trips to the market and the city gates. As time went on, however, she grew steadily thinner and thinner, and weaker and weaker. Maggie stopped going with Tara to steal, preferring to sit quietly in the marketplace instead, begging with her little cap. The redhead was a bit annoyed by this. She adjusted to it, though – after stealing whatever she needed for the day, Tara would go and find her friend and sit with her.

Then one day, a week after Christmas, Tara couldn't find Maggie. She searched for many hours, looking through all of the child's favorite haunts, but there was no sign of the small beggar. Finally, as evening came and a cold rain began to fall, Tara thought to check the alley where Maggie slept. She found her there, curled up in her pile of rags and too weak to even get up. Deep, racking coughs shook the small form.

Tara didn't know what to do. She sat down beside her, under the broken awning; it gave them some protection from the rain, but not much. Every now and then, a big drop of water would splash down on Maggie's shivering little body. Tara arranged the rags so that they covered the sick child better, and then offered her a piece of candy that she'd saved for her. Maggie smiled and sucked it feebly; it seemed to give her some pleasure. She wouldn't take the bit of bread Tara offered her, though. "I'm not hungry, 'kay?" she whispered. "You can eat it." The effort of speech cost her. The fit of coughing that followed left her gasping and exhausted.

Night fell, and it grew colder. Tara gave no thought to going home. Instead she crawled into the pile of rags with her friend, wrapping a ragged old shirt around the two of them. Maggie cried a bit sometime after midnight, and Tara awkwardly tried to comfort her. After a while, the little beggar seemed to fall into a doze, although it was frequently broken by gut-wrenching coughs that made the frail body shake like a rag doll's. Tara hugged her friend all that night, listening to the girl's ragged breathing. And then, just as dawn broke over the dingy alley, the shallow breaths stopped.

Little Tara had seen death before, so she knew what it was, but she'd never come this close to it before. She shook Maggie a few times, trying to make her wake up, even as the horrible realization clutched her heart in icy hands. Then, slowly, she laid the child back down in her makeshift bed. She got up and stood looking down at the little body in mingled grief and guilt and confusion – Tara didn't know what to do. She knew that people were taken away when they died, but she didn't know where they went, or who was supposed to take them. She thought that Maggie still might be cold. Slowly, her lips quivering, Tara tenderly tucked the tattered shirt like a blanket over the unmoving form. Then she turned and left.

She never knew what had happened to the orphan's body. She herself couldn't bear to return to the alley for several weeks. When she finally did, Tara found Maggie and her little pile of rags gone, as if they had never existed.

Even now, if she closed her eyes, Tara could feel the echoing grief and emptiness that bare patch of cobblestones had sent through her.

Tara came back to herself abruptly. She was hugging Epona to her breast, her fingers entangled in the girl's curly hair. The slave was very still. Tara could feel the girl's long, slow breaths expanding her ribs. She blinked; to her own dismay, she felt moisture trickle down her cheeks. _Gods! I haven't thought about Maggie in twenty years._ Tara wiped at her face impatiently with one hand before loosening her grip on Epona. _Come on, woman. Get a hold of yourself. Just what in blazes is wrong with me, anyway?_

Slowly, the slave looked up at her owner. Tara saw the resemblance to Maggie again, and couldn't quite keep the spasm from rippling over her face. Epona touched her cheek. Her expression held equal parts concern and wariness. "Ma'am? Are…are you all right?"

"I'm fine," Tara snarled, quickly pushing away. _I've got to get my control back. I've got to, before I lose it altogether._ Abruptly, the warrior shoved her slave off her lap and got up, splashing over to where she'd left her clothes. "Get dressed," she growled as she began to pull on her shirt. "We're done here." Without a word, Epona obeyed. Tara didn't even look at her. "Take my things back to the inn. I want my breakfast in our room again. Don't mess it up this time."

The slave hesitated. "Ma'am, please, can't…can't I just wait here for you?" she asked softly.

_"No."_ Tara cast the bewildered girl an ugly look. "You go and you do as you're told. Do you hear me?" Epona hung her head. Without waiting for an answer, the warrior turned away and took off up the hill at a dead run.


	21. Chapter 21

The market was closing for the day. Merchants were busily breaking down their tents and booths, and the lowing of oxen and impatient snorting of horses had replaced the buzz of the usual crowd of shoppers. Tara strode confidently through the remaining stragglers. No one impeded her progress – one look at the grim, six-foot warrior was enough to warn most people out of her way at once. She didn't spare much attention for them. Her dark eyes were fixed firmly on their goal – a small merchant's stand, in the early stages of being dismantled. Seven more determined strides carried her to it. There she stopped, drawing herself up to her full height and folding her arms across her armored chest.

The merchant, an old man with a grizzled beard, looked up and smiled his welcome. "Ah! You're back, warrior. I was wondering if I'd saved my merchandise for nothing."

"I keep my word," Tara said shortly. "You still have it?"

"I do, indeed." The man produced an item wrapped up in a rough cloth bundle. "I included all the things you'll need for its upkeep, as you asked." He paused as she took it and fished in her money pouch for the right coins. "Forgive my curiosity, but do you intend to use it yourself? You don't quite seem like the type, miss."

She shot him a cold look, and her eyes narrowed slightly. "It's not for me," she growled. Her wrist flicked as she tossed a handful of coins down on his table. "Here." With that, she turned away, tucking her purchase under her arm and making her way back toward the inn.

It had been an interesting and rewarding week. Tara thought she knew the territory around Argos by heart, now. Being cooped up in one city was beginning to wear on her, but she knew their company was due to regroup in a couple of days, and so it didn't really bother her. Her experiment with Epona had been a success thus far. She'd put the slave through her paces every morning, and she thought she could already see some progress. The girl's skittishness and low mood didn't seem to be lifting, however. And so…

Tara smiled a bit, patting her bundle. _We'll see if this doesn't do the trick,_ she thought smugly. _And even if it doesn't, I'll wager I can get another smile out of the little scrap, at the very least._

Her game of trying to get Epona to smile was giving her a lot of unexpected pleasure. She'd begun to get the sense that the girl wasn't normally so gloomy. The slave _might_ even have a sense of humor. _Might,_ Tara thought doubtfully. _I don't expect I'll hold my breath waiting for that one, though._ She ducked her head slightly as she stepped through the inn door.

The first thing she spotted was Drea. The woman had ensconced herself at a corner table with the cute little tanned girl she'd been amusing herself with – the daughter of some local fruit vendor, Tara thought she'd said. By the bleary look in the dark-haired warrior's eyes, Tara suspected that she'd already had a number of ales, and she had a half-empty mug of it in her fist. The pretty little girl on her arm didn't look drunk, but she seemed happy enough. As the redhead watched, Drea caught sight of her across the floor. The smaller warrior shot her a triumphant grin and deliberately caught her conquest around the waist, capturing her lips in a possessive kiss. Tara chuckled quietly and shook her head as she made her way to the stairs and mounted them, two at a time.

The room at the top of the steps was dark, lit only by a single, guttering candle that was stuck to the windowsill with drips of wax. Tara paused to glance around for her slave. She found the girl's huddled form in a corner. Epona was sitting on the floor with her knees drawn up to her chest. Her head was resting against the wall, and her eyes were closed – she was sound asleep. Tara's lips twitched with affectionate amusement as she set down her package on the bedside table. She used the candle to light a lamp; the room lit up. "Hey," she said, turning back to the sleeping slave. Epona didn't twitch. "Hey," Tara said again, louder. "Wake up, you lazy little mouse, or I'll double your run tomorrow morning!"

Green eyes suddenly flew open, and Epona started visibly. She flinched back against the wall. Then, as her gaze took in her smirking mistress, the slave girl slumped down again with a gasp. "Oh, I…I'm sorry, ma'am. I didn't know I'd fallen asleep…I…"

"Never mind that." Tara grinned and shrugged one shoulder. "Get up off that floor and come here, Epona. I've got something for you."

"For…me?"

The smaller girl slowly picked herself up and moved to stand before her owner. Her curly hair was mussed. Tara couldn't help tousling it affectionately. She followed that up by dropping her fingers to lightly caress the wooden pendant that hung around the girl's neck, and then the soft throat just above it. A dark blush crept over Epona's face; Tara's lips curved slightly. _Mine._ For a moment, she let her fingertips linger there, resting just above the curve of Epona's collarbone. Then she turned, took up the package she'd brought, and dropped it into the slave's slender hands. "Here. Open it."

"A–all right, ma'am." The slave shyly sat down on the bed and rested the bundle in her lap. Tara watched with interest as the slim fingers untied knots and unfolded fabric. Soon, the rough cloth fell away, disclosing smoothly-burnished wood and bright, brass pegs. Epona went very still. Tara saw her little knuckles whiten as she clutched her handfuls of fabric. "Oh," she whispered.

"Do you like it?" The warrior peered at the slave's face. She could see tears filling the girl's green eyes; her own face darkened. "Epona?"

Slowly, the slave girl looked up. Tears spilled over Epona's cheeks, but her eyes lit up like stars, and she smiled – the widest, most genuine smile that Tara had succeeded in coaxing out of her yet. "Oh…it's beautiful, ma'am! I…I don't know what to say…I never thought…"

_Success._ Tara found herself grinning back. She reached out and lifted the small harp, pressing it against the slave's hands. "Well? Try it out. You do play the thing, don't you?"

"Um…yes. Yes, I…" Epona hesitated. Then she grasped the instrument with her left hand and tentatively plucked at its strings with her right. Tara watched as the slender fingers carefully tuned the harp, until its notes rang out pure and true. A faint smile still played about Epona's lips as she plucked out a brief little melody. "It's perfect," she whispered.

"Good." The warrior smirked and turned away. "You get a bit of practice in while I go and get us some supper. You're going to sing me a song once we've eaten."

Moss-green eyes gone wide peered up at her. "A…song?"

"Yep. You know – poetry, sung to music? Usually with some kind of rhythm involved?" Tara tweaked Epona's button nose between her fingers. "Make it a good song, my little bard. I'll be back in a few minutes." She turned away and headed back toward the inn's common room, still smiling at the memory of the astonished look on the slave's face.

The kitchen was serving a rich, savory stew – venison, by the smell of it – with loaves of fresh, fragrant bread. Tara busily collected a tray, but her mind was elsewhere. _Wonder if the little scrap's got a good voice? Be nice if she does. And maybe she can tell a decent story, too. She sure reads enough, from what she's said._ Her eyes softened. _That'd be nice…nothing like a good singer and storyteller on winter nights around the campfire. Squirt might be worth her weight in gold._

"Hey, Terror." An arm was thrown unexpectedly over Tara's broad shoulders. The warrior just barely managed to keep her instincts from kicking in and sending a knife plunging into the body attached to that arm. As it was, she turned a dour glare on the drunken, dark-skinned woman who was grinning at her. "Grumpy ol' girl," Drea teased, her words slurring together. "Wanna come drink wi' me t'night? Be a lotta fun." Her dark brows waggled. "Can 'ave better fun later, too."

"Not tonight." The Gael shrugged off the smaller woman's arm. "I've got something planned with Epona."

"Aw, c'mon, Terror." Drea leaned in, giving Tara a good whiff of the ale on her breath. "Slave can wait, right? Be more fun wi' me."

"No." Tara's nose wrinkled in distaste at the smell. _Gods. I think a drunk's only attractive if the other person's drunk, too._ "Some other time, all right?"

The smaller warrior scowled and stuck out her lower lip in a pout. "Well, fine. Go play wi' your damn slave. I'll just 'ave Selena 'nstead, then." She lurched as she pointed back at her young conquest, nearly falling headlong into a table. "Maybe I like 'er better, anyway!"

"Sure, Drea." Tara watched in mingled annoyance and amusement as the smaller woman staggered back to the table she was sharing with the local girl. "Wine and women," she muttered, shaking her head. Then she took up the tray and headed back up the stairs to where her slave was waiting.

When the warrior shouldered her way into the room, Epona was still strumming the strings of her harp and humming softly. She stopped as her owner entered. Tara carelessly thumped the tray down on the bedside table. "Put away your little pluck-pluck and have some food," she said gruffly. "No sense starting the festivities on an empty stomach." The slave obediently laid aside her instrument and took one of the bowls of stew her mistress had brought.

They ate in companionable silence. When they were done, Epona got up to stack their dishes neatly, and then reached for her harp. Tara's hand shot out and caught her by the wrist before she could grasp it. "Not yet," she said mildly, as the slave looked at her in confusion. "You've got way too many clothes on." Her fingers twitched at the hem of Epona's long tunic. "Take this off." Without a word, the slave obeyed, letting the soft fabric slide off her and onto the floor. Tara grinned at the exposed flesh and sat back lazily. "C'mere," she said, patting the surface of the bed between her knees. Slowly, Epona crawled up. Tara grasped her by the shoulders and nestled her slender body comfortably between her thighs, pulling her back to rest against her chest. Then she reached out a long arm to snag the harp and laid it in the slave girl's lap. "Now, we're ready," she smirked. "Sing away, _beag luch._" Her hand rested in its favorite place against the girl's flat stomach.

Epona nervously tuned the instrument. "I…haven't practiced in a while, ma'am," she whispered. "I don't know how good my voice will be."

Tara ducked her head to nibble on the rim of Epona's ear. "Never mind that, my little mouse-girl. Sing me a song." She nipped the side of her slave's neck, grinning as she heard the faint gasp that followed. "Make it something interesting, too. No mushy love songs, all right?"

"Okay." The girl shyly began to strum the harp. Then, clearing her throat slightly, she began to sing.

Tara was enchanted. Epona's voice was soft, and sweet as a flute. A broad smile spread over her face as she listened. _She's not bad…not bad, at all. Heh._ The redhead relaxed and began to listen to the words. After a while, her brow creased. It was a song about a warrior who had led a small force against three Amazon villages, and wound up destroying them completely. Tara's sandy brows lowered. By the end of the song, she was almost scowling. Epona looked up timidly when she had finished; there was silence for a long moment.

The warrior eyed her suspiciously. "I can't say that I've heard that particular song before, Epona. Where did you hear it?"

Epona flushed scarlet. "Oh. Um…well, actually, I…I guess I sort of put it together myself, ma'am," she said timidly. She pointed at her two books, which were stacked together beside the bed. "I read the story in that big one, the one put together by the local bards."

"Oh, really?" Tara glanced ruefully down at the book, her frown softening. "And you composed that little melody for it yourself?"

The small slave squirmed a bit. "I…guess." There was a pause. "Did you really defeat three Amazon villages, ma'am?"

"You gods-be-damned sneaky little minx." The redhead couldn't help chuckling. She shook her head slowly. "Yeah, I did." Then, curiously, "Did that story say why I did it? Or give a lot of detail?"

"No, ma'am," Epona said quietly. "It was a really long story about a fight between Ares and Artemis. Your part in it was kind of small, but when the book mentioned the warrior with red hair, I knew it had to be you."

"Huh." Tara idly sorted through the black curls that lay against her breast, stroking Epona's naked belly with the other. "Well, I might as well tell you the real story, then, since you're bound to be curious." She rested her head back and gazed thoughtfully up at the ceiling. "That was back when I was fighting with Vasilus," she said. "Drea and I had joined him about a year before. We'd been hired by four villages in northern Argonia – some damn Amazons had been forcing them to pay tribute, and they wanted out. Can't say I blamed them." Tara scratched her nose. "First fight we got into, Vasilus got wounded. He took an arrow in the leg, and just about bled to death. Then infection set in, and we figured he was going to die." Her eyes darkened. "And his damned, blasted second, Spiro, wanted to just give up and leave. _Leave!_ After those bitch harpies had done that!"

Epona turned her head to look up at her. "You didn't like that."

"You just bet I didn't. Vasilus might not have been the best man in the world, but he was a damn good fighter, and damned if I was going to just run like a whipped dog and not dole out some revenge on some bloody Amazons." Tara gave a dangerous smile. "So I challenged Spiro, and he lost. And then I led Vasilus's boys, and we spanked those bitches in two pitched battles. Burned their villages to the ground." She paused, running her fingers lightly over her slave's ribs. "Know what I did to their Queens?" Epona shook her head. "Had 'em crucified. Nailed them to three crosses just outside the third village and let 'em watch while it burned. Then I had every prisoner we'd taken brought there and put to the sword."

The little slave didn't speak, but the look of sick horror and reproach in her eyes hit Tara like a slap across the face. The warrior felt the first stirrings of anger in her gut. Then Epona looked down, and Tara was struck again by how much she reminded her of Maggie. The fury dissipated as suddenly as it had begun, and she simply felt tired. Tara sighed. "Tell you what. I'll tell you a gentler story for your little collection," she said quietly. "Don't want you to have nightmares, after all."

"Okay," Epona whispered. She didn't look up.

Tara leaned back. "This is a story about two little girls who lived in Gaelis," she said. "Their names were Maggie and...and Raven." _Why am I telling her this? I'm out of my damn mind._ "They were friends," she went on. "Maggie was an orphan, and Raven's mother was a drunk, so they survived on the street together by begging and stealing."

It was strange, but Tara lost herself in the telling of her own story. The memories rose up before her mind's eye as she spoke, as real as the room in which they sat together. She could almost taste the salty sea breezes that had whipped through her hometown, hear the cries of the merchants selling their wares, and see the laughter in Maggie's dark eyes. As she neared the end, she could feel her chest burning, and a hard lump rising in her throat. Tara plowed on doggedly – she'd never yet let mere pain keep her from doing something, and she wasn't about to stop now. "…But the pile of rags was gone, and so was Maggie. Raven never did find out where they'd taken her."

Tara's voice faltered and fell silent. She found herself still lying with her head resting back on the wall, but she'd closed her eyes. Drawing a deep breath, the warrior began to collect her scattered wits. Then she felt the little form in her arms shiver. She looked down.

Epona's body was curved against hers, and her face was pressed into the soft leather of her jerkin. As Tara watched, bemused, she saw the little form shake again, and heard a tiny sob emerge from the hidden throat. The warrior was equal parts touched and annoyed. She tugged on one of Epona's dark curls. "What're you blubbering about, you ridiculous girl?" she asked gruffly. "It was just a story."

"It was so sad." Epona emerged from her hiding place with wet green eyes and a tearstreaked face. She rubbed at her cheeks with slim hands, uttering another little sob. Then she slipped her arms around the warrior's muscular body and hugged her tightly. "I'm so sorry," she whispered.

Tara struggled with herself. Her first impulse was to tear herself loose and snarl at the slave girl, but something was stopping her – something she couldn't quite put a name to. Did it have something to do with Maggie? Tara's brow furrowed in confusion. _Damn it. Damn it, damn it…_ "Knock it off," she growled instead, halfheartedly pushing at Epona's arms. The girl released her and moved away quietly, her expressive green eyes averted. The warrior's touch grew gentler then as she traced her fingertips over the sharp line of Epona's collarbone. "Enough stories," she said quietly. "Why don't you see about taking my shirt off, _beag luch,_ and we'll go from there?" Small fingers obediently began to work on the fasteners of Tara's jerkin. The warrior let the sensations flow over her after that, drowning out the pain of memories that could never now be changed.


	22. Chapter 22

Tara lay peacefully on her belly on the bed, her chin propped up on her wrists. Small hands were gently rubbing over her back and sides. The sensation was exquisite, she thought as she closed her eyes. "Mm. I think we've found another talent for you," the warrior grunted, stretching out her long legs. "Go higher up – my neck could use a good massage. And don't be afraid to squeeze harder." Epona quietly obeyed, pressing her fingers into the muscles that joined the warrior's neck to her shoulders. Tara fairly purred with enjoyment.

She'd gotten the idea during their workout that morning. Well, to be precise, she'd gotten the idea while they'd been soaking in the hot spring yet again. It had occurred to her suddenly that a backrub would be most welcome, and she'd eyed her oblivious little slave with suddenly-gleaming eyes. Now, as she stretched and mumbled in pleasure under Epona's soft hands, Tara thought this might be her best brainstorm yet. The slave's hands kneaded carefully down the sinewy muscle on either side of the warrior's spine. Tara felt warm tingles spread out over her skin. _Ah. Now this is living._ "You're about enough to turn me into a hedonist."

"I'm glad it pleases you, ma'am." Epona's voice was quiet and polite.

"Are you, now?" The warrior peered over her shoulder at the girl, her dark eyes twinkling slightly with amusement. The moss-green eyes met hers calmly, and then dropped back to their work. _Hm. She doesn't seem as nervous as usual today._ "Clever girl," Tara went on in a conversational tone, resting her head back on her arms. "It's all about me, you know. Happy owner, happy slave. Angry owner, slave in a heck of a lot of pain." A grin twitched the corners of her mouth. Tara snuck a peek at the girl; Epona was still working industriously, and showed no outward sign of fear. The warrior was a bit disappointed.

After a minute or two, the slave worked her way back up to Tara's shoulder blades, and began to massage the woman's upper arms. "Ma'am?"

"Mm?" Tara, who had been half-dozing, opened one eye.

"May I ask you a question?" Tentatively.

"You just did," Tara mumbled. "But I'll let you ask another."

Small hands kneaded over Tara's left shoulder. "You've had a lot of…things…happen to you," Epona said softly. "I mean, from what you've told me. And some of those things have been really…well, kind of ugly. Right?"

Tara woke up completely. She frowned at the wall. "I suppose."

"And some ugly things you couldn't really do anything about," Epona went on, without pausing in her work. "But now you're really strong and brave, so…how did you get through it, ma'am? How did you keep all those things from destroying you?" The soft voice broke abruptly. "That's my question."

"If something sucks and I can't do anything about it," Tara said bluntly, "I push myself until I'm strong enough, and then I punch it right in the gods-be-damned nose."

Epona sighed. Her slim hands stopped moving, resting instead against Tara's bare skin. "I guess that would work if I were big like you," she murmured. "But I'm never going to be a warrior, ma'am."

The redhead quirked a sardonic brow and eyed her boyishly-slender masseuse. "No, you're right. You won't." There was silence. Epona resumed kneading at Tara's shoulders, her face a study in quiet misery. The warrior sighed, rolling her eyes inwardly. Why a slave's unhappiness should bother _her_ any, she didn't know – but the simple fact was that it did. She cleared her throat. "Sometimes crap happens," she said gruffly. "You just have to make a decision. Do you want to be alive? Do you want to be happy? If you do, you just have to put your damn head down and plow through. There just isn't any other bloody way sometimes." There was a pause. "Being my slave's that much of an imposition on you?"

The girl seemed to sense the danger in the question. She flicked her moss-green eyes up to meet her owner's, briefly, and then looked away. "There are worse things," she whispered. That was all.

Tara couldn't quite restrain a chuckle at this. The dangerous glint in her brown eyes faded away. "Listen to the world-weary little mouse," she said. "There are worse things than being in thrall to the Terror of Gaelis?"

"Yes, ma'am. There are." Epona's voice was quiet, but it didn't waver.

"Eh. You're probably right." The warrior laid her head back down and smiled grimly. "You could be in the gladiator pits in Romus, for example. You could be nailed to a cross…you could be abandoned out in the wild, and starve to death." Epona said nothing. Tara finally shrugged. With some reluctance, she waved the slave away and got up off the bed, reaching for her tunic. "Good job," she said shortly. "But we'd better get down to that leatherworker's shop and get my order. Folks start getting back tomorrow, and I want to have all that taken care of by then."

Epona's eyes gleamed at her in curiosity. "What did we go there for, ma'am?"

"Guess you'll find out," Tara said loftily. "Come on." And she stumped out of the room. Behind her, she could hear Epona's softer footfalls as the slave followed.

The warrior had been doing some thinking in the past couple of days. She wasn't sure how long she was going to stay with Drea's ragtag group of mercenaries, but she knew she'd probably stay for at least another couple of raids. That meant that Epona would probably continue in her role as a field medic – even Tara had seen some tolerable talent for the job in her small slave. And _that_ meant that the girl was going to continue being far too close to the battlefield for Tara's liking.

With this in mind, the warrior had taken Epona to the leatherworker's shop a few days earlier. The man had measured the girl and gruffly told them both to come back later. Tara glanced at Epona over her shoulder, noting the continued curiosity in the girl's face. She smiled and turned her attention back to her own steps. There was really no point in keeping the purpose of the visit a secret from the slave, but Tara was doing it anyway. She liked how Epona reacted when she was surprised.

_Really, I like how she reacts to most things,_ Tara admitted to herself. _She's got to be the best price I've ever demanded for my services._

The leatherworker's shop was located beside the tanner's, which reeked. Tara saw Epona's nose wrinkle. She grinned at the small girl. "Smells great, doesn't it?" she said. "How'd you like it if I quit the warrior game and become a tanner?"

"Ugh! I'd rather you didn't, ma'am." The slave shuddered and covered her nose with her hand. "Do tanners always smell like that?"

"Yep. Every one I've ever been to, anyway." Tara ducked into the leatherworker's place, closely followed by the curly-haired girl.

The leatherworker was a large, broad-shouldered man. He looked as if he had once been a soldier; he walked with a pronounced limp. One look at the tall, red-haired woman, and he held up a finger before disappearing into the back of his shop. Tara folded her arms and waited. Epona stood beside her quietly, her green eyes taking in the sights. It was an interesting place, Tara had to admit. There were three or four low worktables scattered about, with bits of tooled leather stretched out on them. The one closest to them held a half-finished belt, decorated with vines and leaves and small flowers. It was intricate work, Tara thought. She saw Epona paying special attention to it. "You like that, mouse-girl?" she asked.

"Oh." The slave looked up, slightly startled. "Um…yes, I…it's very pretty." Wistfully.

"Hm." Tara shifted a bit. "Well, what I got you isn't so pretty as that, but it's practical, and you'll thank me for it later." As she spoke, the leatherworker reappeared, holding a small garment in his hands. He shook it out for her inspection.

It was a gambeson made of cured leather, with reinforcement along the seams, and hardened plates of leather sewn over the breast and back of it. It was something like leather armor, in fact, only a bit lighter than true armor would have been. Tara nodded her approval. "Put it on, little mouse," she ordered. "Let's see how it fits you."

Epona's eyes were wide and bewildered, but she obediently pulled the garment over her head. She reached for the belt at the waist, but Tara's hands stopped her. Calmly, the warrior pulled the belt tight, testing the strength of the loops that held it. Then she tapped her fingers against the hardened leather over the slave's heart, peered at the high, reinforced collar that protected her throat, and ran a hand over a few of the neatly-placed stitches that held the gambeson together. "Not bad," she said grudgingly, noting the skilled craftsmanship that had gone into making it. "It's decent. I'll let you keep the coin I gave you."

"I do the best work in southern Argonia," the leatherworker said testily. He glowered at the tall warrior, not in the least bit intimidated. "If ye finds one what does it better, I'll call ye a liar."

"Fair enough." Tara raised a brow at him, and then glanced down at her slave. "So how is it? Is it comfortable enough for you?"

"It feels all right." Epona looked distinctly uncomfortable. "It…it's kind of big under my arms, I think." The leatherworker scowled his annoyance, but dutifully knelt down to examine and fix the problem.

Tara's eyes wandered as the work was done, and came to rest on a small rack on a nearby wall. It held a number of whips with braided lashes. There were a number of different sizes, everything from a light gig whip to a heavy, woven blacksnake. The warrior regarded them in thoughtful silence. _Maybe I should get one,_ she thought. _It might help me with that damn temper of mine. That way, if the kid ticked me off again, I could go and get my whip instead of just whaling on her with a stick, or my fists…might give me more time to cool down and think about what I was doing._ Tara lifted down the smallest one and examined it. It was a simple implement, woven together from four sturdy strips of leather, with a short handle and a lash about a foot and a half long. She nodded to herself and turned back to the leatherworker.

The man was just finishing his adjustments to Epona's gambeson. He used a stout pair of shears to cut off leather lacing he had just used to sew up the sleeve and brushed at the surface of the leather with a callused hand. "That should do it," he grunted. "It'll guard 'er from little cuts, but it ain't no use against arrows and axes."

"It's better than nothing," Tara said calmly. She held out the whip. "How much for this?" He named his price, and she tossed him the coin negligently. "I'll take it," she said briskly. "Thanks. We'll get out of your hair."

Epona walked quietly after her. Tara noticed her green eyes resting on the whip in her hand, but the slave made no immediate comment. Neither of them spoke at all, in fact, until they were halfway back to the inn. Then Epona scratched the back of her head. "Why buy me armor, ma'am?" she asked softly. "I don't fight."

"No, but you run around on battlefields, Epona. Things can happen." The warrior twitched at the collar of the gambeson. "I'd rather there was something other than cloth between you and our enemies' swords. Wouldn't you?"

The slave girl shivered and looked down. "I'd rather there was a few hundred miles between me and our enemies' swords," she said softly. There was another, shorter silence. Then, with a plaintive, half-fearful look, "Have I done something wrong, ma'am?" Tara raised her brows, and Epona looked pointedly at the lash in her owner's hand. "Am I in trouble?"

The warrior grinned. "Do you want to be?" The slave blinked, and Tara relented with a rough laugh. "No. Not yet, anyway. I just figured it's best to be prepared." She reached out and patted Epona's cheek with the coiled whip. "But you're a good kid, and you seem pretty bright. You won't make me use this, I'm sure." Epona said nothing – she followed her mistress back into toward their room in silence.


	23. Chapter 23

There were about a thousand things that Epona would rather have been doing in this dim half-hour just before dawn than struggling up a hill while weighed down with what felt like a thousand pounds of armor.

Although almost all of those things would have involved staying in bed.

The weight of the shoulder armor and shield on her back shifted, and she almost fell, her good arm tightening instinctively on the sword she was carrying. Epona managed to catch herself and regain her balance. Panting, the girl threw the sweat-dampened hair back from her eyes and tried to keep the effortlessly striding form of her owner in sight. _How does she do it?_ The slave almost despaired at how much of the hill still remained to be climbed. She stole a glance over her shoulder to mark her progress. It wasn't quite as depressing as she'd thought. Heartened, Epona applied herself once again to the task at hand.

It would have been bad enough if Tara hadn't insisted that she wear the new gambeson she'd bought the day before. The woman's hands had been firm as they'd fastened the belt around Epona's waist, securing the armor onto her body. "You're going to wear this until I say you can take it off," Tara had said then, gruffly. "I won't have you running around battlefields in a coat you're not used to."

_Battlefields._ The slave mopped the sweat from her eyes, nearly tripping over a fallen branch in the process. She'd only been along on the one fight so far, and she hadn't liked it one bit. The sight of the hapless guards being slaughtered had horrified her. And then, to have her hands drenched in Drea's blood, and…Epona shivered. She'd done well enough with Drea, and then she'd been able to help a young man who'd been cut across the top of his thigh.

That, at least, had come naturally. Epona had, after all, cared for Marcella whenever their father's temper had gotten out of hand. She knew how to wash and care for wounds, and change bandages. She knew how to keep her voice soft and her touch gentle.

At long last, Epona staggered up to the top of the first rise, to the small plateau where Tara always did her sword drills. The woman was standing there, casually waiting for her. She wasn't even breathing hard, Epona noted in discouragement. Gasping for breath, the slave girl stumbled to the woman's feet and dropped to her knees, as much from exhaustion as from deference. She heard Tara chuckle. "Good girl." The heavy armor and shield were lifted off Epona's shoulders; she groaned with relief, and heard the Gael laugh again. "Hand over the sword, mouse-girl." The slave obediently held up the blade.

Without comment, Tara set the weapon aside. To Epona's surprise, the warrior hadn't put on the armor, nor was she wielding the shield. She smirked down at the curly-haired girl. "I've got a new lesson for you today," she said.

_Oh, no. Gods, no._ The slave felt her heart sink. She was very tired, and she didn't want to do anything more strenuous than standing. Epona peered up at her mistress timidly, and found Tara grinning at her mischievously. _Gods,_ the slave groaned inwardly. _It's never a good sign when she gives me that look!_ The warrior gestured. "Stand up." Despite her aching legs and still-heaving chest, Epona obediently rose to her feet. "Here." Something cold and hard pressed into the palm of Epona's right hand. She looked down to find the hilt of a dagger clutched in her fist.

Cold shock shot though Epona's guts. She stared at the knife in dumbfounded bewilderment for several moments. Then, slowly, she raised her eyes again to meet the brown ones of her mistress.

Tara was standing casually a few feet away, a second dagger – longer than Epona's – held loosely in her grasp. She raised a brow slightly as her slave's gaze met hers. "We're probably going to be battling again in less than a week," she said. "And since everyone insists on your scuttling around us while we fight, I figure you'd better learn how to defend yourself a little. That gambeson," poking the stiff leather covering Epona's chest, "will protect you a bit, but it won't do squat against someone actually attacking you." Tara held up her knife. "So you're going to learn to use these."

Epona's mouth fell open. She searched her owner's face, hoping desperately to find some sign that she was joking, and finding none. Her gaze fell back to the dagger in her hand. She tried to imagine shoving that into someone else's body; her stomach lurched with nausea. "Me? I…I don't…"

"Are you sassing me?" Epona knew without looking that those brown eyes had gone cool. She shook her curly head emphatically. "Good." A slow, rhythmic rasp of steel against stone began. "I figure you need a weapon you can lift, so that pretty much lets out everything but a knife," Tara said calmly. "Ever used a weapon before?"

"Yes." The slave saw Tara's brows shoot up in surprise. "It's true," Epona insisted. "I know how to use a bow. It was just for fun…my sister and I would practice, and my brothers could shoot, so they sometimes put on these little tournaments, with targets and…" Her voice trailed off at the amusement in the warrior's face. The slave looked down and felt her cheeks begin to burn. "I can shoot," she whispered.

A callused hand clapped her on the shoulder. "All right, then. You'll have to show me sometime. If you're any good, I'll see about getting a little bow made for you." Epona felt Tara's chuckle through the hand that rested on her. "You're just full of surprises, aren't you, _beag luch?_ Next thing, you'll tell me you're an oracle, and start pronouncing the judgments of Zeus." The slave lifted her head to stare at her mistress, but the red-haired woman had already turned away, and was moving a few yards off. "Now – the daggers."

Epona bit her lip. "I…ma'am, I don't think…"

"No one asked you to." Tara faced her and fell into a defensive crouch, her knife held blade-downward and slightly raised in her fist. "Enough talk. Attack me."

The smaller girl started at her. "Att…what?"

"Attack me," Tara said impatiently. "You know – run at me, try to stab me, slice me up with your little knife? Come on." Her blade made a light slashing motion in Epona's direction. A grin twisted her lips, and her brown eyes glinted. "Attack me."

Epona wanted to cry. She stared at her mercurial owner pleadingly. "Please, I d-don't know how," she stammered.

At this, Tara frowned and straightened, putting her fists on her hips. "You've got a choice, Epona," she said. "You either do what I tell you and come at me with that knife, or you can just trot back to the inn and bring me my whip. Which is it going to be?" The slave's lips quivered. "Well?"

The slave's knuckles whitened around the hilt of the dagger. "I…my arm's still hurt," she said softly. "And I don't want to hurt you." She shuddered to think what the Gael would do if she accidentally nicked her.

"_You_ – hurt _me?"_ Tara laughed, low and long. She fell back into her defensive crouch and beckoned. "It'd take more than a little mouse to injure me, Epona. And I won't hit your arm. Now come at me." Epona bit her lip and hesitantly held up her knife, mimicking her owner's overhand grip. Tara bared her teeth. "Come on!' With a choked sob, the slave darted forward, swiping halfheartedly at Tara's shoulder.

There was a blur of movement. An iron grip fell on Epona's knife hand, and another on the scruff of her neck. Her feet were smashed out from under her and she fell hard, her breath leaving her with a whoosh as her belly struck the ground. The slave lay there, stunned. She felt Tara nudge her roughly in the ribs with the toe of her boot. "You call that an attack?" the warrior growled. "I've seen more aggressive moves than that coming from sick sheep. Get up!"

Epona was still rattled, but she stumbled to her feet again. Somehow the knife was still clenched in her fist. Her head spun. She saw Tara beckon again. Epona tentatively lunged again, this time trying to drive directly at the warrior's chest. Tara's body slipped aside like quicksilver. An arm struck her hard in the middle! The slave doubled over. The world flipped around – then her back struck violently against the ground. She uttered a little squall of pain. "Not good enough. Get up," Tara snarled. "Get up and attack me, damn you!"

Over and over, Epona swiped at her mistress, only to be smashed to the ground with sickening force. She had her breath knocked out twice. Beaten and battered, the slave staggered up yet again. Her ribs hurt. Her legs ached from being kicked out from under her so many times, and her ears were ringing from the blows her skull had taken. Tara had kept her word of not touching her half-healed arm, but nearly every other part of her body now ached. Tears of pain brimmed in Epona's eyes and spilled over her cheeks.

The brown eyes that faced her held no sympathy. Tara's face was a cold mask as she circled her, feinting with her knife. "Come on," she snapped. "What's wrong with you? You're holding a weapon. Don't you want to cut me? Stab me? Make me suffer?" She swiped at Epona's side, making the weeping girl yelp and stumble away. "Attack me, damn it! You want to, don't you?" Epona choked on her own sob. "Think about it." Tara's voice lowered to a growl. "I was with them, you know. Those men that torched your city – killed your family. I was with them." The slave stared at her in silent anguish. "Your sister," Tara rumbled, baring her teeth. "Remember? I was with them."

The memories seared Epona's mind. Marcella's blood…the slave's throat closed. Her fist, clenched tightly around her weapon, shook. "No," she whispered.

"I was." Those brutal, icy eyes fastened on hers. "You remember. I killed a lot of people there, Epona. Maybe some of your brothers died on my sword." Epona's body shook with a gutwrenching sob. "I'm a monster, little mouse. Attack me. Remember how I beat you, Epona? How I broke your arm?"

And then, suddenly, rage overwhelmed the slave's anguish. With a choked cry, Epona flew at her, swinging her dagger at that sneering face with all the strength she could find!

Her wrist was caught again in that powerful grip, and an arm smothered her momentum, crushing her against her owner's muscular form. Epona struggled for a tense moment. Then, collapsing, the slave sobbed against Tara's shoulder. She felt the knife being pulled from her grasp. Tara's large hand pressed against her head a moment later, cradling it with surprising gentleness. "There it is," the warrior said quietly. There was a note of pride and satisfaction in her voice. "Now _that's_ how you attack, Epona. You do it like that every time, and maybe we'll make some headway."

The little slave's hands clenched convulsively on Tara's shirt. She couldn't control her tears. She wanted to tear at the woman with her nails, make her hurt the way she'd made _her_ hurt, but… _Oh, gods. Gods, I want her to protect me. I just want her to make it all stop._ Other memories threatened to make themselves known, and Epona buried her face in Tara's chest as if the woman's solid form could chase them away. "I hate you," she blurted, in a sudden burst of passion.

There was a pause. "Do you?" Tara sounded merely curious. The choking slave looked up at her, and found the woman searching her face intently. "Do you, really?"

Epona stared at her for a long moment. At last, her wet green eyes dropped. "No," she whispered miserably. She was still terrified, but her fear was being overwhelmed by a kind of reckless courage. "I…I want to, but…no." She tugged herself closer to the woman and buried her forehead back into the soft leather of Tara's jerkin. "And if I could hate you for that, I would." Her slender body jerked with a hiccup. "M-ma'am."

Tara chuckled softly, and Epona felt her strong fingers weaving through her dark curls. "That just might be the nicest thing you've ever said to me, _beag luch."_ The caress turned into a rough tousling of her hair, and then a firm push. The slave stepped away and wiped her face with shaking hands. Her whole body was still shaking, in fact, and her myriad bruises were making themselves felt. "Come on," Tara said calmly, grasping the smaller girl lightly by the arm and heading for the nearby spring. "You can drink and wash your face, and then we'll be going back."

The slave girl paused in the act of kneeling down at the water's edge to peer up at the woman in surprise. "Y-you're not going to go on your run, ma'am?"

"Nope. Not this time." Tara gave her an impish smile. "We're heading back to the inn. I think there's something there that you'll want to see." Then, gesturing at the water, "Well, go on. Wash your face and drink so we can get going." Epona dipped her shaking hands into the cool liquid and splashed her face with it. Then she drank deeply. The cold, sweet water braced her, and she felt her roiling emotions begin to settle down.

When she had drunk, Epona was sent back to pick up Tara's armor, sword and shield again. It was awkward since she couldn't use her left hand much, but the slave managed it after a determined effort. The warrior ruffled her slave's hair again, with a look at once mocking and affectionate. "All right, mouse-girl. Let's go. Since it's your first day practicing with your little knife, I'll be nice to you – you don't have to run." Epona silently thanked the gods as the woman started down the hill. The calf of her left leg hurt; Epona took her tongue between her teeth and limped determinedly in the wake of her mistress.

_I wonder what she thinks I'll want to see at the inn?_ The slave girl's brow furrowed, and she pondered the puzzle, trying to take her mind off her aching body. _Did she go and get me something else? With my luck, it's probably a warhorse, and she'll expect me to ride it right away. I'll fall off, and then I'll go bouncing down the road like a nutty rabbit._ The mental image was equal parts terrifying and amusing. Epona sighed.

Sharp brown eyes glanced back at her for a moment, and then turned away. Epona let her gaze rest on the broad back of her owner. Tara was wearing a sleeveless tunic and short leggings. The slave could see the sinewy muscle rippling across the backs of the woman's bare arms. Epona shook her head slowly. Tara's physical strength was nothing short of awe-inspiring. She suspected it would equal that of many men. In a way, she envied the warrior's breezy confidence and power. _It must be nice to be strong,_ the slave thought sadly. _I wish I was. Then I could defend myself when..._

No. I won't think about it. I won't! Epona shuddered and swallowed hard against a wave of nauseating fear. Then she forced herself to think about nothing at all, simply staring down at the ground under her stumbling feet.

They finally reached the courtyard of the inn. Tara stopped her then, and took back her armor and weapons, slinging the brass shield on her back and strapping the sword at her side. "Good work," she said shortly, giving Epona a thump on the back that made the smaller girl wince. "You're getting stronger. Another couple of weeks, and I'll start taking you on my runs." Epona wisely said nothing, and Tara shot her a grin. "C'mon." And she strode through the door into the common room. Epona followed quietly.

At first, the slave took little notice of their surroundings, merely staying on her owner's heels as the woman headed for one of the tables. Then she heard a man's voice give a greeting, and her eyes came up. She saw Tara's red head bob briefly. "Hadrien," the warrior said stiffly. Then, turning, "Morning, Drea."

It _was_ Hadrien. Epona hadn't known he was back already. Then, as Tara moved to sit down beside Drea and across from the burly fighter, the slave's eyes widened. She quickly looked around. Her eyes lighted on the table next to them, and found Bernice's gently-smiling face looking back at her. Epona's heart leaped.

"Hello, Pony," the woman said. Her smile widened good-naturedly. "Would you like to have some breakfast with me?"

Without a word, Epona looked at Tara, and found her owner watching her. The slave gave her a beseeching look. With an indulgent laugh, Tara waved her hand. "Go ahead, little mouse. I won't be needing you for a bit, anyway."

Bernice was rising from the table now. With a sudden impulse, Epona moved forward and threw her arms around her friend, her heart full of intense relief. She felt the woman return the hug. "Well, good morning, Pony," Bernice said, with a little laugh. "I take it that you missed me?"

Epona thought back over the last couple of weeks, and shivered. Her arms tightened around the older woman's waist. "Oh, Bernice," she whispered. "I'm so glad you're back!"


	24. Chapter 24

By the time Tara finally returned to her room that night, she found Epona there, sound asleep.

Drea and Hadrien and Tara had been planning their group's next short foray. It was Hadrien who had suggested the target. There was a village about a week's ride to the northeast of Argos which had evidently become fairly prosperous in the last couple of years. They would find good horseflesh and provisions there, he said – and, since the village had no organized militia, they would probably be able to intimidate the villagers into simply giving them what they wanted, with a minimum of fighting required.

The three of them had spent hours plotting out various strategies, putting plans in place for every eventuality they could think of. The plans would be reviewed and revised later, of course, but Tara was pleased with everything they'd managed to accomplish.

Now, her dark eyes rested on the huddled form in the corner with some bemusement. Once again, Epona was sitting there on the floor, her curly head resting bonelessly against the wall. _Why in the world does she keep doing that? There's a bed only five feet away. Does she like being uncomfortable?_ Tara shook her head in rueful amusement as she began to undress for bed.

The window was open, and the night air felt cool on Tara's skin. She pulled a soft sleeping shirt over her head. Then she paused, considering the sleeping slave. Epona's knees were drawn up, and her arms were draped limply over them. There were lines of tension around her eyes and mouth, as if her dreams troubled her. The warrior frowned and slowly sat down on the bed.

She had felt a moment of unbridled anger and jealousy when she'd seen Epona's first reaction to Bernice that morning. The girl's moss-green eyes had lit up with delight and welcome and relief. The slave girl had _never_ looked at Tara that way – not once, even during the little game the warrior was playing of making her smile. Tara had let it go at the time, but now she wanted to consider her own reaction carefully. Her dark eyes lingered on Epona's sleeping face. _Why does this bother me so much?_ she wondered. _Why do I even care if she really smiles at me? I could just order her to do it. What am I trying to do?_

Again, the girl's resemblance to Maggie came to her. Tara clenched her jaw against the wave of emotions that followed. She narrowed her eyes and studied the sleeping face, trying to place just what that resemblance was. _She doesn't really look like her,_ Tara decided. _Maggie did have dark hair and big eyes, but she didn't have curls...they really don't look that much like each other. So is it more of a personality thing I'm seeing?_ She frowned. _No, it's not really that, either. Maggie had a lot of courage, even if she was quiet. Epona would hide under the bed if the wind blew._

Then what is it? Epona is not Maggie, she growled at herself. _So get a grip! Just because she's a bit like some little girl that died over a decade ago doesn't mean you have to go to pieces..._ The warrior stopped, sighed, and let her head drop in defeat. _No. That isn't what this is about. It isn't just that she kind of looks like Maggie...it's..._ Her brown eyes widened slightly in realization. _It's that I feel about her the way I felt about Maggie._

For a long time, Tara was silent, simply trying to digest this. _No. No, that's stupid! Epona's just a helpless, whimpering little slave. A _slave,_ Tara! And you can't afford to have a weakness like that. You have to stay in control of this. How would it look if you went all goofy over some little whining shrimp? So just stop it!_ She pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes and took a deep, steadying breath. _All right. Just calm down. So you like the kid, no reason to go to pieces. So you think she's cute. You like Drea, and it hasn't killed you yet._ Tara inhaled again. She felt a little better. She dropped her hands back into her lap and looked at the girl again. To her relief, she found that she could look at her without that feeling of panic. Tara took another deep, steadying breath. _All right. I guess I'd better put the little scrap to bed._

Epona was so deeply asleep that she didn't even stir as Tara lifted her into her arms. The warrior cradled her carefully and laid her down on the bed. When she began to undress her, the slave shifted a little; the green eyes opened a crack, then widened in surprise and confusion. Tara found herself smiling quietly. "Hey," she said. "You fell asleep in your clothes on the floor. Figured you'd be more comfortable this way."

"...Oh."

The slave lay quietly as her owner stripped her down. Now that Tara was paying attention, though, she could see the fear and misery in the girl's moss-green eyes. She gritted her teeth. _I don't want her to look at me like that. I want her to look at me the way she looked at Bernice._ The warrior noted the dark bruises that mottled the slave's pale skin. _I did that this morning,_ she realized. _Gods, I beat her black and blue!_ Her conscience reproached her. With a scowl, Tara turned away and rummaged in her belongings for one of her old shirts. "Here," she said shortly, tossing it to Epona. "Put that on." Silently, the slave obeyed.

It took a moment or two for Tara to get her annoyance in check. When she finally did, she turned back to Epona. The girl was sitting there quietly, the old shirt draped over her slender form; she still looked frightened. Tara swallowed. "I'm not mad at you," she said. Epona looked at her through her lashes – the fear hadn't diminished. "I'm not," Tara insisted, moving to the bed and sitting down beside her. She felt the girl's slim form flinch at her touch. Firmly, the warrior pulled the slave into her lap and cradled her there. "I'm not going to hurt you," she said. "Just relax, all right?"

"Yes, ma'am." Epona dutifully fell limp in Tara's arms. Tara felt her shiver.

The warrior sighed. She felt suddenly exasperated, although she wasn't entirely sure why. She tugged Epona's head into the crook of her arm and sifted the dark curls with her fingers, studying the girl's small face. The slave bore the scrutiny in silence, although Tara could see the confusion in her expression. "You're my slave. I don't owe you any explanations," the warrior said suddenly. Bewildered, Epona gave a faint shake of her head. Tara's tone softened as she continued to play with the girl's silky hair. "But I'm going to explain something to you anyway. All right?" Epona nodded meekly. "Do you know why I was so hard on you this morning? Why I pushed you so hard?"

"Because I didn't do it right, ma'am?" the slave asked softly.

"Not exactly." Tara shook her head. "You've never used a dagger before. I wouldn't expect you to be good at it instantly." She caught Epona's eyes with her own. "I pushed you because you weren't attacking me like you meant it. You were tentative. And that will get you killed." The slave bit her lip, and Tara nodded grimly. "If you swung your little knife like that on the battlefield, you'd get spitted like a pig for your trouble. No. That's what I want you to take away from today's lesson, all right? You never, ever attack unless you _mean_ it."

The slave shivered. Tara watched her eyes drop, and felt a small hand grip the front of her shirt. "All right," Epona whispered.

Gently, the warrior brushed the hair back from the slave's face. "You look pretty banged up," she said quietly. "Are you hurting? Do you need to be patched up a bit before you go back to sleep?"

Epona looked up timidly. There was a moment's deep hesitation before she answered. "My legs hurt," she admitted. "And my head, a little." Without a word, Tara laid her back down and inspected the slender limbs. There were a number of dark bruises on Epona's shins, and one on the muscle of her left calf. The warrior dug in her healer's kit and pulled out a bottle of strong-smelling salve. The pungent smell of herbs wafted into the air as she spread the liniment over the bruised skin; she heard Epona sigh in relief.

The slave's skull gave Tara pause. Her fingers found a lump on the back of Epona's head, and another just behind her right temple. _Damn. I shouldn't have been quite so rough with her...I'll have to teach her how to fall properly._ Tara frowned. "Is your vision blurry?" she asked. The smaller girl squinted experimentally, then shook her head. "Shut your eyes," Tara instructed. Then she waited a few seconds before turning the slave's face toward their lamp. "Open them." Epona opened her eyes dutifully. Tara watched the girl's pupils shrink, and nodded. "Good. No concussion," she said. She ruffled the dark curls gently, then turned to blow out the light. "Let's get some sleep, then, _beag luch._ You'll feel better in the morning."

Tara felt the slave snuggle against her as she stretched herself out on the bed. She drew the blanket over the two of them and nestled Epona more securely in her arms. The smaller girl gave a soft sigh. "Ma'am?" she whispered, after a while.

"Mm?" Tara settled her hand in the small of Epona's back.

Epona swallowed. "Did...did you really kill my brothers?"

There was silence as Tara processed the question. "I don't know," she said finally, opting to tell the truth. "I killed a lot of people there, Epona. Some of them had swords, some didn't. Some of them might have been your brothers. I really don't know." The slave swallowed again, audibly. The redhead gently clasped Epona's head against her chest. "I didn't do it to hurt you," Tara said softly.

"I know." Epona's voice was dull. "It was just battle. Right? You would've killed me, too."

This was treading on very dangerous ground. Tara could feel it. She struggled with herself for a tense moment. At last, she let out a long breath and closed her eyes in surrender. "No," she whispered. "Not if I'd known then who you were."

There was a very long silence after this. Tara could hear the slave's soft breathing, and feel the small fingers drawing aimless circles on her chest. Finally, she spoke. "Ma'am?" The redhead made a soft sound. "I'm not a warrior," Epona said softly. "I never will be, no matter how much you teach me."

Tara sighed. "I know that," she said. "I'm not trying to turn you into a warrior, little mouse. I'm trying to teach you what you need to know to stay alive." She squeezed the slender form in her arms. "Do you understand that?"

"Yes. I think I do." Epona's arms slipped around Tara's body. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," the warrior said gruffly. "Now let's get some sleep, kid. I don't wanna have to haul your skinny butt out of bed in the morning." Epona giggled softly. Tara felt the curly head nestle itself against her chest. With a small, contented smile, the warrior closed her eyes.


	25. Chapter 25

"Ah...Hera's tits, it's good to be riding again!" Drea sucked in a noisy breath and shot a grin over her shoulder at the redhead riding behind her. "Don't you think so, Terror?"

Tara cast a cool glance at her from under the dripping hood of her cloak. It had been raining all morning, and it showed no signs of stopping; the water poured down in sheets, drenching both horses and riders. In her arms, beneath her cloak, she felt Epona's warm body snuggle a little closer. A grudging smile twitched at the corners of her mouth. "Better than the inn," she agreed. "As long as we're heading toward a good fight, I'm happy."

The smaller warrior laughed. "You might be awfully disappointed when we get there, then, if what Hadrien says is true," she said. "Even if the lot of them come against us, they're just farmers and merchants."

"I'll take what I can get." Tara flashed her a dazzling and dangerous smile. "And who knows? Maybe we'll get lucky, and some band of idiots will attack us on the way."

Drea glanced back at their entourage of armed, grim-faced warriors, then back at Tara, and raised her brows. "Anyone who'd attack a group like this wouldn't be an idiot," she said firmly. "He'd be a raving lunatic, and where's the fun in that?"

"Like I said – I'll take what I can get." Tara drew her sword, slashed lazily at an overhanging branch, and sheathed the blade again, all in one graceful motion. "It would beat battling a bunch of leaves, anyway. Much more exciting." She looked down at the little form huddled in front of her in the saddle. "Don't you think so, mouse-girl?"

Epona turned her head to look up at her owner. Despite having the hood of her cloak up, her black hair was still drenched, and water dripped steadily off the end of her snubbed nose. Her moss-green eyes searched Tara's face gravely. "I guess it would be more exciting," she said quietly. "And it would make a good story to tell afterward, ma'am."

Tara grinned broadly. "As if I didn't have enough problems with bards before!" she said. "Now I've got one following me around everywhere. Are you going to go around telling everyone stories about the Terror of Gaelis, you ratty little runt?"

The slave bit her lip. "Do you want me to?" she asked hesitantly.

"Depends." Tara slipped her hand up under the girl's gambeson and found bare skin. "You tell 'em to me first, and then I'll know. Deal?" Epona nodded quietly and leaned back against her, drawing the hood of her cloak up farther. The warrior playfully tugged it back all the way. "Hey. Don't you hide from me, little mouse-girl. I paid good money to look at that cute little face of yours, damn it." Even in the dim light of the stormy day, she could see the blush that spread over Epona's cheeks. Tara chuckled and tugged her closer. She couldn't help but admire the slave's delicate cheekbones. Leaning forward, the warrior took one finely-shaped ear between her teeth and gave it a soft nip. Epona made a barely-audible, delicious sound that made Tara shiver. The warrior brushed her lips down the damp skin of the girl's cheek and bit lightly at the angle of her jaw. She felt the slave squirm a bit.

The sound of a throat clearing nearby made Tara's head come up abruptly. Drea was riding beside them, leaning over, gazing at her with a raised brow. "Hello, Tara?" she said. "Anybody home?"

"Oh." The warrior suddenly realized that Drea had been talking to her, and she hadn't heard a single word she'd said. She felt her own cheeks flush – it made her scowl. She hoped that the blush wasn't noticeable. "What?" she growled.

The smaller warrior sat back up in her saddle. She was frowning slightly, an unusual expression on her normally-cheerful face. "I _said,"_ she said testily, "are you listening to me? But I guess the answer would be no. I must've forgotten to use my 'commanding officer' voice." Tara looked away and clenched her jaw against a wave of anger. If anyone else had used that tone with her, she probably would have drawn a weapon. But, well, Tara _had_ put herself under the woman's command. She gritted her teeth and muttered a halfhearted apology. "All right." Drea sounded somewhat mollified. Her tone softened a bit. "So, talk to me. What do you think we should do once we've taken this plum little village? We probably won't get much fighting out of that deal, and we should get some in before we rest up." Drea waggled her eyebrows a bit. "There's an Amazon settlement a few days' ride farther north."

Tara looked at her. "Amazons?" she echoed, then glanced back at their group. "Drea, we've got about fifty guys. You'd need at least three or four hundred to take on Amazons. They're bloody good fighters. You know that!"

"Mm, yeah." The dark-skinned woman settled back in her saddle and gave her cloak a flick, scattering water to the wind. "I was thinking we could do a little recruiting first. You've got a reputation, you know, so I bet we could get enough people together. Especially if this village we're raiding is as good as Hadrien says it is...if we can show them the gold, we won't have problems getting mercenaries to join up." Drea smiled. "What do you think? We could make a name for ourselves, Terror. Be a force, you know? Be _legendary._" Her dark eyes gleamed.

The redhead raised her brows. She had to admit that the idea was pleasant...she didn't particularly love being in command, but she did love war, and the thought of being part of a larger force like that ignited a fire in her gut. Tara scratched her chin, forgetting Epona for the moment. "Another Amazon village, huh?" she murmured. "But it'd take more than that to really get a name."

"Not for you. It'd be, what – your fourth?" Drea looked at her. "How many fighters do you know who can say that?"

Tara shifted uneasily. There was something like hero worship in Drea's tone, and she was never entirely comfortable with that. "Well, yes. It would be my fourth. But you were there, too, you know. It wouldn't just be _my_ fourth."

"We'd never have taken the three without you," Drea said flatly, "and you know it. You fought like a damn demon. Whether you have gods' blood or not, I've seen you fight – I know why they call you a demigoddess."

The redhead rolled her eyes. "Oh, gods, don't start with that!" she groaned. "I'm a butcher, all right? I can swing a damn sword. That's all." Drea snorted. "But sure, whatever. If we can scrape together a good force, I'm for conquering whatever we can conquer. Keep giving me people to kill, and I'll keep killing 'em, Drea. I'm happy so long as I'm well paid and up to my elbows in blood."

Drea grinned. "It always seems slightly unfair that I can have you for something as mundane as _money,"_ she said. "I really ought to be offering bulls to Ares, or something."

"Knock it off," Tara growled, scowling. "I'm no bloody god!"

"I know that." The smaller warrior laughed and glanced up at the sky. "It's getting close to evening, I think. Keep your eyes peeled for a good spot to stop for the night, all right, Terror? If you spot something before I do, give me a shout." Tara nodded shortly. Drea dug her heels into her horse's flanks and rode on ahead. Her mount's hoofs made squelching sounds in the muck; her eyes scanned the woods on the sides of the road.

Tara felt a stirring against her belly as Epona twisted around to look up at her. "Aren't Amazons awfully dangerous, ma'am?" the slave whispered. Her moss-green eyes were wide with awe. "I've heard stories about them. They've defeated whole Argonian armies!"

"They're dangerous, all right, _beag luch."_ Tara leaned forward and playfully licked a raindrop off her slave's nose. Epona gave a little squeak of surprise. _Adorable._ "But I'm a damn sight more dangerous than they are. Don't you forget that." The slave girl nodded timidly, letting her eyes drop. "We won't take them for granted," Tara added quietly, brushing the soaked bangs back from Epona's face with the tip of one long finger. "Don't you worry your little mouse head about that. You just concentrate on keeping me happy, and let the warrior concentrate on keeping you safe. Deal?"

"Okay," Epona whispered. She rested back against Tara's muscular body. The warrior smirked as she circled her with one protective arm, and she turned her attention back to her riding.

The reins rested loosely in Tara's hand. Her horse was high-spirited, and she'd had to ride him hard that morning. Now, however, he was plodding calmly along the road. He'd needed little direction from her for the past hour or two. She regarded his proudly-arched neck and powerful shoulders with fondness and pride.

Epona leaned her head back to look up at her again. "Ma'am, does he have a name, yet?"

Tara looked at her with a half-amused, half-disgusted smile. "The horse, right?" The slave girl nodded silently. "No, he doesn't. I don't name my horses." Tara gave an indulgent sigh. "But I suppose you have some kind of a suggestion, don't you?"

"Yes." Epona poked her hand out of her cloak to stroke the sodden black mane. "I think we should call him Cerberus."

The warrior couldn't help laughing. "Cerberus? You want to name my damn horse after the hound that guards the gates of Hades?"

"Yeah." The slave girl peered up at her through her soft, black lashes. She was smiling shyly, and Tara found herself thoroughly charmed by it. "I was reading about him yesterday. He seemed really scary and strong, and it reminded me of him." Epona paused. "Although Cerberus eats meat, and I'm pretty sure your horse wouldn't, ma'am."

"Nope. If anyone tried to feed my horse meat, I'd make steaks out of _them."_ Tara shifted in her saddle and tucked her cloak more securely around the slim little body that rested between her thighs. "All right, _beag luch._ If you really want to name him Cerberus, go ahead. Just don't blame me if we get laughed at."

"We won't," Epona murmured, and cuddled back against Tara's warm body. Both of them fell silent, listening to the creak of wet leather, and the ever-present falling of the rain.


	26. Chapter 26

Tara's eyes narrowed as she peered out across the clearing. The woods extended to her left, right to the village that lay before her; to her right, the forest thinned out into gently-rolling plains, dotted with clumps of trees and bushes. One of those bushes concealed her in her hiding place. Her gaze was fixed on a campfire that lay between her and the village, around which were camped about twenty rough-looking men.

At her elbow, Drea stirred. "What do you think?" she whispered.

The redhead peered at them. "They're armed," she replied. "Mercenaries. Looks like that village hired 'em for protection, otherwise they'd be looting the place instead of just camping there."

"Just what I thought. Looks like Hadrien's information was just a touch out of date." Drea's lips curved. "Poor bastards – only about twenty of 'em, we outnumber them two to one." Now she grinned outright. "I say we go get the boys and get to work."

"Mm." Tara's eyes narrowed farther as she studied their quarry. Her gaze moved slowly over the men, and then to the woods beside them. "Why are they camped right _there,_ Drea?" The smaller warrior glanced at her, frowned, and followed her line of sight. "They're right by the woods," Tara whispered. "The bush is really thick there, see? It could pretty easily hide more of them. I bet we're only looking at about half their force. They're trying to draw an attack so they can ambush us."

Drea looked at her sharply. "You think they're expecting us? How would they know?"

"They're expecting someone." Tara watched as several of the men scanned the land around them. Most of them looked tense, and all were watchful. Even those who were sprawled casually by the fire cast searching looks at their surroundings every now and then. "And if the village hired protection, they must expect to be attacked." She glanced at Drea, who was frowning. "How sure are you of Hadrien?"

"Sure," the dark-skinned woman said firmly. "The man saved my life twice. I'd trust him and Leander with anything. If there's anything fishy about this thing, it ain't because of him." Tara raised a brow slightly, but said nothing. "I think they've just hired themselves some protection because they grew a brain and realized they've got stuff that should be protected. But they haven't got enough protection, have they?"

Tara pursed her lips grimly. "They might. Depends how many of 'em are in those woods back there." She turned her dark eyes back on Drea. "Did the scouts make any mention of numbers when they reported to you?"

"Nope. Just these guys." The smaller warrior gave a half-shrug.

"All right." Tara carefully loosened her dagger in its sheath as she considered the problem before her. She was armed only with two knives, having left her heavier weapons with Epona and Cerberus, and wore no armor other than the thick leather garment she usually wore beneath her mail. That was good; it was much easier to move quietly without it. She nodded slowly to herself. "I'm going to scout out those woods," she whispered. "You stay put." Without waiting for Drea to respond, Tara began to crawl toward the forest.

Next to battle itself, this was Tara's favorite thing to do. She loved the hunt, especially when she was hunting people. Her body moved carefully and smoothly along the ground. She timed her motions with the slight breezes that waved the grass and bushes around her. She could hear the strange men talking, now. The warrior paused in her movements to listen, but heard nothing other than idle campfire talk. Tara turned her attention back to the woods and resumed her silent slinking.

When she gained the cover of the trees, Tara stopped to let her senses catch up with her surroundings. She could still hear the low rumble of the mens' voices, and the occasional harsh burst of laughter. Other than that, though, she could hear nothing but the rustle of wind through the leaves. There was no birdsong, no flutter of wings, and no sounds of animals. Her lips twitched. _There's something here, all right – something big enough to scare off all the forest creatures. Wonder how many of those guys are hiding out in here?_ She crawled onward for another dozen yards or so, and then stopped as the breeze carried the smell of leather and steel to her nose. Her nostrils flared. Eyes gleaming, Tara dropped down on her belly and wormed her way through the underbrush. A flash of color caught her eye. Going very still, she parted the bushes before her face and peered through.

Just as she'd suspected, there was another group of men hiding there. They were silent and waiting, their eyes constantly scanning the brush. Two of them were closer than the others; Tara could have reached out and touched one of their ankles. They were obviously the lookouts. She toyed with the idea of grabbing the nearest one, just for the fun of it. _Nah, I'd better not,_ she decided. _Then I'd have to fight all these guys by myself with only a knife. Not smart._ Instead, she quickly counted them. There were twenty-eight; taken with the twenty-five or so around the fire, that made just over fifty of them.

Silent as a shadow, Tara crawled backward into the brush, and then began to pick her way cautiously back to where she had left Drea. She thought furiously as she went. _So, if they've got fifty-five men or so, that means they match us in numbers. Do they match us in skills?_ She thought back. Most had been wearing old, worn, but well-maintained armor, which meant that they were experienced fighters. They were well-armed, too. _Damn. They might be a match for our force,_ Tara mused. _But we still hold the element of surprise. If we can use that effectively, maybe we can put them at a disadvantage. Better see if Drea and the boys have any creative ideas._

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

"If the numbers are even, I still think we should just run at 'em," Hadrien grumbled, shifting and patting the haft of his battle axe. "We can just cut them down to size, and none of this fancy nonsense."

Drea leaned back and took a mouthful of ale. "Tempting," she said, with a mischievous glance in Tara's direction. "After all, we do have a secret weapon, don't we? Really, we should just relax here and send Terror in to take care of this little problem for us. It'd be a lot simpler, wouldn't it?"

The redhead shot her a glare. "Very funny."

Leander looked thoughtful. "If they're smart enough to be trying to draw attackers into an ambush, they might be smart enough to lay traps. Have we looked for those?"

"I did," Tara said succinctly. "They haven't – not in the open, at least. So long as we stay out of the woods, we'll be fine." She picked up a stick and poked at the fire. "What I'd be worried about is how much cover those woods give them. You could hide a lot of archers in there…do a lot of damage before we could get to 'em."

The four of them were sitting around their campfire on rough sections of log. Now that they had a better idea of what they were dealing with, they were revising the plans they'd laid out the week before. Most of those plans were already obsolete, as they'd assumed the village would have little defense. Tara frowned absently; then her scowl faded as she felt the warm form between her knees shift. She looked down and smiled a bit as Epona laid her head against her thigh. Really, there was no logical reason for her to have brought the little slave to this meeting, but she wanted her there. Her fingers sorted through the black curls that had spilled over her leg. _Her hair's getting kind of long,_ Tara mused. _Guess I'd better see if someone here knows how to hack it shorter without scalping the kid._

Drea stared into the fire, her dark eyes narrowed in thought. "I guess we could always swing around and attack them from behind, through the woods," she said. "They'd probably hear us coming, though, and it's a lot easier to hide traps in there. Plus they know the terrain, and we don't. That'd put us in a bad position."

"Hades' balls!" Hadrien growled. "I'm not crawling through the woods like some sneaking rat. I'm a soldier, not a stinking thief."

"Then let's just use the simplest solution," Tara said coolly, raising her eyes to meet Drea's. "Fire. Burn 'em out. Then, while they're worrying about that, we attack from the open side – trap them between fire and sword. Let them choose whether to die on our blades or roast like the pigs they are."

Leander and Hadrien goggled at her – Drea tapped a thoughtful finger against her lower lip. "It's been kind of wet, though," she said doubtfully. "Would a fire really catch?"

"Bel's fire would." The redhead shrugged a shoulder.

Now even Drea's eyes grew wide. "Bel's fire?" she said. "I've heard of that stuff. Nothing puts it out. It even burns under water…but that's a Persian thing, isn't it? No one here even knows how to make it."

"I do. Did a three-month stint on a Persian ship last year, and made a point of learning." Tara sat back and sipped her ale calmly. "It's dangerous stuff, of course. I'd have to be the only one to handle it before we launch it at the bastards. But I can make it." She put down her mug, leaned over to where they'd spread out the hide on which they'd scribed a crude map of the area, and tapped the woods that concealed their quarry. "All I'd need is our archers. Wait until dark, send a volley of fire arrows here, here and here – get those stands of trees burning real good. Then we attack from this side, catch 'em between the fire and us. We'd make short work of them."

There was a long silence. Drea scratched her nose. "Well, that would work," she said. "Anyone have any better ideas?" No one spoke. "Okay." The dark-skinned woman drew herself up visibly. "That's what we'll do, then. We attack the night after next. Hadrien, make sure the boys are all ready for battle – drill 'em, inspect armor and weapons, the works. Leander, you see that the horses are ready. I don't want any broken horseshoes or stupid things like that. Tara, you've got the run of the camp – take or get anything you need for that fire stuff." The taller woman inclined her head. "All right. Go to it, the lot of you. We've got a couple hours before nightfall, so get things started now, if you can." She paused. "Oh, and all of you watch out for Terror in that battle, all right? She's a whacko like Hadrien. When she really gets going, anything near her's dead, friend or foe." Drea cast Tara a rueful smile, then turned and headed for her tent.

Tara didn't move as the others scattered. She looked down at the dark head that lay on her knee and gave the black curls a gentle ruffle. "Hey, little mouse. I've got a project I want to do with you right now."

The slave girl straightened up. She sat quietly with her head bowed as her owner rose to her feet. Tara reached down and tugged lightly on the collar of Epona's gambeson. "Come on, you. Up," she said. "Let's go find one of the archers and see if we can borrow a bow. You're going to show me if you really know how to use one." Epona meekly got up. Her green eyes were still averted. Tara laid a guiding hand against her lean back and headed to a corner of the camp.

It didn't take long to secure a bow. Its owner was a young man, perhaps eighteen years old, whose muscles hadn't yet grown to their full size; his bow, consequently, was the lightest Tara could find. She judged it would still be difficult for her little slave to draw, but it was the best she could get. She took Epona away from the camp, to a spot where the woods were thin. Then she put the bow into the girl's hands. "Here," she said. "You see that little sapling over there?" Tara pointed at a young tree about thirty yards away. "Try to fire a few into it."

"If you like, ma'am." Epona braced the bow against her foot and strung it with surprising competency.

As she put an arrow to the string, Tara noted that her small hands were shaking visibly. The warrior glanced up at Epona's face and found it very pale. She nudged the girl's shoulder. "Hey. What's wrong with you? Are you feeling sick?"

The slave girl bit her lip. "N-no," she whispered. "I…" Tara saw the slender throat move as the girl swallowed hard. "Ma'am, I…I don't want to shoot people. I…I can't…I can't kill anybody! And…and shoot that horrible fire you were talking about...please…" Epona's voice trailed off with a choked sob.

Tara regarded her quietly for a moment. Then she lifted a hand and brushed the hair back from the girl's forehead. The moss-green eyes wouldn't lift. Tara leaned forward and kissed Epona's brow. "Relax," she said calmly. "I'm not going to throw you into this battle. For now, I just want to know how well you can shoot. All right?" The slave shivered visibly. "Calm down. It's just target practice." Slowly, Epona looked up. She searched Tara's face for a long moment before finally nodding. "Good girl." The warrior clapped Epona's skinny shoulder. "Now, show me."

The shaking of the slave's hands calmed. As Tara watched closely, Epona nocked her arrow and raised her bow. She couldn't draw it all the way, but she held it steady. A moment – a breath – and Epona's fingers released. Tara looked at the target. The young tree now sported a new gash on the right side of its trunk; the slave's arrow had found its mark. Another arrow followed, and another. All three hit the sapling, and one struck it dead on, to bristle proudly out of the wounded wood.

The warrior raised her brows. "Not bad," she said, admittedly surprised. "Not bad at all."

Epona put down the bow and slowly unstrung it. She still looked very unhappy. "Am I going out with the medics again?" she asked softly.

"Yes." Tara took back the bow and what remained of the arrows. "You've got talent for it, so what else would I get you to do?" Epona said nothing. "Come on. Since we're out here, let's take a look around and see if we can find any herbs that can treat burns. You're probably going to need them." The slave girl shuddered, but dutifully joined her mistress in the search for the healing plants in the fading light of day.


	27. Chapter 27

Darkness had fallen, and all was silent. Tara stood watching and listening, every nerve in her body taut and tingling and fully awake. At any moment, Drea would give the signal to fire. She could smell the acrid stench of the liquid Bel's fire on the arrowheads ranged behind her, and hear the faint sounds of the enemy camp that lay before them. Her eyes gleamed with anticipation. The flint and steel felt hard and rough in her palms.

_There!_ A soft twitter of birdsong came to her sensitive ears. Tara acted at once. Stooping down, she struck a spark onto the torch she'd prepared. The fuel caught and flared up at once. Quickly, Tara took up the torch and stepped over to the first archer. "Light up quick," she growled. "Don't let any of this stuff get on your skin or your clothes. If it catches, it burns until it runs out of fuel – there's no putting it out!" The archers quickly thrust the heads of their arrows into the flame. The Bel's fire caught and burned with an eerie green. A moment later, eight bows were drawn, and a volley of flaming arrows sped unerringly into their targets.

"Again," Tara whispered urgently, shaking her torch. "Quickly, quickly!" Another volley of arrows flew, and then another. She could hear shouts and screams now, and the hiss of arrows as someone returned fire. "Go!" she ordered tersely. "Get back to your positions. Run!" The archers vanished at once. Tossing the torch aside, Tara sped to where she'd left the rest of Drea's forces.

They were still there, watching as the sinister green flames spread through the forest. The enemy soldiers were panicked. Tara suspected that most of them had never even heard of Bel's fire. As she watched, one of them threw a bucket of water at a blazing bush – the flames only splashed with the liquid. Some of them caught on his leg, and his screams floated back to where their unseen assailants crouched. "Okay." Drea's voice was strained. "Are we ready?"

"We're set." Tara smiled grimly. She drew her sword and cast a glance behind them at the lone clump of trees that shielded their four field medics. In the flickering green light, she could see Epona's small form huddled behind a tree trunk. Tara turned her blazing eyes back to Drea. "Well, let's do it. We've got 'em running already."

Without answering, Drea drew her own blade. The rest of their force brandished their own weapons accordingly. There was a moment's tense silence; then, rising to her feet, Drea thrust her sword into the air and let out a piercing yell! The shout was echoed by dozens of throats, and the first wave of mercenaries charged.

Tara herself darted back to where she'd left Cerberus. Twenty of their fighters were there, all mounted and ready for battle; the redhead swung up into her horse's saddle. Cerberus snorted and reared. Tara tightened her knees around his barrel and pulled hard on the reins. "Easy, boy! Easy," she said, already laughing with battle fever. "We're going soon." She gave the eager horse a slap on the shoulder as he pranced in place. Her eyes moved to the battle.

The twenty men they'd sent in were clashing with the panicked defenders, who had managed to form a reasonable line of defense despite the circumstances. As Tara watched, more enemy soldiers poured out of the woods. Many of them were on fire and shrieking in mortal agony, but many weren't – her eyes widened a bit as she took in their numbers. "Ares' bloody bastard chits!" she muttered. There were more than she'd thought. Their footsoldiers were now engaging at least forty defenders, and more were coming. _Damn it all. There must have been more groups of them in that rot-scragging forest. Bloody, bloody, bloody damn it!_ Without waiting for the signal, Tara waved her sword in the air. "Ride! _Ride!"_ she shouted, digging her heels hard into her warhorse's flanks. Cerberus surged forward. Elation rose up in Tara's heart – then blades clashed, and she was in the thick of the fighting.

There was a rumble like thunder from the direction of the village itself. Tara looked up to see about fifteen mounted riders coming at them. "Drea!" The woman looked at her, then followed her pointing finger to look. The moment her eyes fell on the approaching horses, the smaller warrior began screaming out orders. Ten riders swung out to meet the charge. Tara didn't even have to direct Cerberus. He snorted, put his head down, and charged out to meet them as well.

_Crash!_ Tara's shield connected hard with the chin of the first rider. He went down without a sound. There was a flash of motion, and she just barely ducked in time to avoid a swinging mace. Instinctively, she swung her blade, and caught him in the throat. He fell against her, nearly tearing her from her horse. Tara clung to Cerberus with her powerful legs and shoved the limp body away from herself. Out of nowhere, an enemy pike jabbed up at her from the ground! She braced herself for the impact, but Cerberus danced out sideways and, at a signal from her, kicked hard with both hind legs, catching her attacker squarely in the chest. There was a crunch of bone, and he dropped out of sight. Three horses closed in then, jostling her; Tara suddenly felt a powerful arm around her waist, and felt herself being dragged down! Something smashed her hand as she fought it, and her sword flew from her grasp. With a curse, she went limp and let herself be hauled out of the saddle. As she fell, she jerked out one of her daggers and plunged it into her attacker's chest. The grip on her body loosed, and Tara fell fair on her feet.

It was chaos. A blade whipped at her neck! Tara ducked and grabbed the arm instinctively. She gave it a vicious twist. There was a snap, and she heard her assailant scream. Without stopping to think, Tara jerked the sword from his grasp and killed him with it. Then she hacked her way back to where the footsoldiers fought. There were plenty of enemies there.

And then, as Tara stood there laughing and swinging her sword in shining arcs, she heard a piercing cry of terror rise above the tumult of battle. The sound made her blood run cold. Tara spun around, narrowly avoiding having her head taken off by a battle axe, and looked across the battlefield.

The enemy had pushed the raiders to the left, away from the sheltering copse of trees where they'd left their field medics. As Tara watched, the four unarmed figures fled from their cover, pursued by a group of shouting defenders. Her eye caught on the small, slim figure running last. _Epona…!_ The girl suddenly stumbled and fell. Tara's heart stopped. _Get up, get up – get up and run!_ As Epona scrambled to her feet again, Tara heard Drea shout an order. The redhead saw the commander raise a clenched fist in the air; in response, the attacking forces bunched together into a defensive core. A wave of defenders swept between Epona and the others. She was trapped.

_"No!"_ The ragged cry tore itself from Tara's throat. She began to swing her sword like a madwoman. Her arms and back ached already, and her legs were shaking with the strain, but Tara doggedly carved her way through the enemy, fighting her way toward her helpless slave. She caught a glimpse of the other three field medics. They had managed to avoid the trap, and were now running to relative safety behind Drea's troops. The enemy gave another great push just then – Tara was now an island in a seemingly endless sea of defenders, separated from her fellow fighters and Epona.

_Damn it. Damn it damn it damn it!_ Tara uttered a mental curse with every swing and thrust of her blade. Enemy weapons rattled off her shield and armor like hail as she stubbornly dug her feet into the dirt and fought her way through. She'd lost track long ago of how many enemies had fallen to her, and how many enemies remained. Gasping, Tara struggled to find her slave. _Come on, come on…where are you?_

Then, in the eerie green light cast by the unnatural flames, she saw her. Epona was fleeing before one of the defenders. Tara saw the small girl suddenly stop and stand her ground, bravely brandishing her little knife – saw the man's sword swing viciously – saw Epona catch her foot on something as she tried to back away, and stumble. Epona's body jerked as the blade made contact. Without a sound, the slave dropped out of sight.

An inarticulate roar burst from Tara's lips! Red mist rose up before her eyes as her dark side came uppermost. She didn't even know how she tore her way through the wall of soldiers between her and her slave. The next thing she knew, she was there. She caught a brief glimpse of Epona's frightened green eyes, and the blood that drenched the front of her gambeson. Then the enemy closed in again.

"Stay down!" the warrior screamed, straddling Epona's broken form protectively and brandishing her sword. She hoped Epona could hear her. Tara glared her defiance at the enemy. "You want it? Come and get it, you damned bastards!" They flooded in, smashing against Tara from both sides – came, and broke on her like a wave breaking on a crag of stubborn stone. She was like a raging devil there in the darkness, snarling and striking on every side with both weapon and shield. Bodies piled up around her like a bulwark. Still they came on, and still she fought and killed. Sweat poured down her face, where it mingled with blood and ash.

Then she lost track of everything. Tara was fighting solely on instinct now, twisting and whirling and striking faster than she could think. The only thing she was really conscious of was the small, broken body under her feet, around which she danced and fought with infinite care.

The end, when it came, was sudden and unexpected. One moment, Tara was battling madly, shrieking like a madwoman; the next, she was standing there alone. She stared stupidly at the fleeing backs of what remained of the defending army for several moments. Slowly, the battle rage faded, and all she could feel was exhaustion. Tara's knees gave way, and she fell onto them. Her fingers were still clamped around the hilt of her sword. Gasping, Tara pried them loose, and bent over the little figure that huddled there in the muck of battle.

As Tara knelt bent over her, Epona's eyes opened. Her white skin was barely visible under the blood and gore that spattered her. Tara could feel that same cold stickiness all over herself – her heart lurched. _She's hurt,_ Tara thought dimly. _I saw her hit…how bad?_ With shaking hands, she unfastened Epona's belt. The front of the gambeson was soaked with blood. Tara pulled it open.

There was an ugly cut across Epona's belly, just above her navel. There was too much blood and too little light for Tara to tell how bad it was. With fingers made clumsy by exhaustion, Tara fumbled for the bottle of water she carried at her hip, and poured it over the injury. The gore sluiced away, and Tara searched the wound anxiously. Relief washed over her as she realized it had only cut skin and flesh, and not organs. She dropped the bottle and let her head fall forward. "You'll be okay," she managed, her voice faint and hoarse. "It's not fatal."

Epona seemed to understand, but her huge eyes, startlingly white against her gore-spattered face, still held deep horror. She held up her hands in mute appeal. Tara found herself moving into the embrace without hesitation, drawing the slender body up against her. Epona's slim arms found their way around her neck, heedless of the blood and dirt of battle that covered both their bodies. The warrior felt a soft kiss press against her filthy cheek. "Thank you," Epona whispered, and cuddled her curly head into her shoulder.

Something in Tara snapped, and indescribable emotions flooded her. To her horror, she found herself hugging Epona tightly to her chest, unable to move or speak. _Gods. Oh, gods, I almost lost her._ She felt the arms around her neck squeeze a little. There was trust in Epona's moss-green eyes – a trust so simple and profound and unexpected that it made a lump rise in Tara's throat. _Gods, gods…Epona…my little mouse girl…_

She couldn't deny it any longer. This tiny, skittish little slave girl had succeeded in doing what Tara had sworn no one would ever do – she'd made Tara _care._ And suddenly nothing – not the battle, not the world, nothing in the universe itself – mattered as much to the stricken warrior as the poor little scrap of humanity that was currently clasped to her breast.

Tara's stomach lurched. _No. No! This can't happen! I won't let it. I'll…I'll sell her, that's what I'll do. I'll tie her hands and…and I'll sell her!_ But her rebellious arms still hugged Epona close, and the soft, happy sigh the girl gave almost brought tears to her eyes. Tara knew then that it wouldn't be the blade of a warrior or the axe of a barbarian that would finally bring her low.

It would be the dainty little hand of a slave.


	28. Chapter 28

Tara ducked into her tent and stood there for a long moment, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the dim light inside. Slowly, the outlines of things began to take shape – the slim lines of her javelin, the dull glint of her shield; the neat pile of saddlebags; and lastly, the shapeless mass that was her sleeping furs, and the dark head that rested silently on Tara's rolled-up cloak. The warrior moved forward and knelt down at her slave's side.

She simply couldn't fathom it. Somehow, that young woman – just barely out of girlhood, with her slender little body and innocent green eyes – had found a way around Tara's defenses, and now rested securely in her heart. And Tara couldn't push her out, either, despite her half-baked plans to sell or give the slave away. The very thought of losing Epona made her guts ache. Tara's hand shook a bit as she reached out to brush her knuckles against the slave girl's pale cheek. "Hey," she said softly. "You awake, _beag luch?"_ Sleepy eyes opened and blinked drowsily up at her. Tara swallowed. "Time to change the bandage again."

"Yes'm." Epona lay quietly as the warrior pulled back the furs that covered her. She was naked to the waist, except for the linen bandages that wound about her slim waist. With great gentleness, Tara loosened them and exposed the wound. It looked far uglier than it was – a long cut that stretched all the way across Epona's belly. As soon as Tara had recovered somewhat from her weariness after the battle, she'd carried the slave back to her tent in her arms. There, she'd tenderly bathed her and stitched up the long cut with her own steady hands. Now Tara inspected the wound carefully for signs of infection. Finding none, she washed it, dusted it with healing herbs, and bound it up with fresh linen bandages.

As Tara put away her kit and the soiled cloth, Epona peered up at her. "He could have killed me," she whispered. Her green eyes were haunted.

"Well, he didn't," Tara said brusquely. She wasn't really sure how to comfort someone, even though she felt like she should. _I could hug her, I guess. But I just don't have time right now._ With a sigh, she laid the furs back over Epona's body. She bent down to kiss the girl's forehead. "I can't talk right now," she said quietly. "We're trying to figure out who sold us out. This thing was a gods-be-damned trap."

"Was it Hadrien?" The small girl lightly grasped her owner's wrist.

"Maybe." Tara's brows lowered.

Epona bit her lip. "Is Bernice safe?" Tara said nothing. The slim fingers around the warrior's wrist tightened. "Please keep her safe," Epona pleaded. "You will, won't you, ma'am? You won't let anyone hurt her."

A lump rose in Tara's throat. She closed her eyes in defeat and, bending down, placed another kiss on the slave girl's brow. "If Bernice didn't do anything wrong, then I promise nothing bad will happen to her," she said gently. "Okay?" The invalid nodded and looked away. She didn't seem much comforted. Tara grasped the small chin and forced Epona to look her in the eye. "Hey," she said sternly. "Have I ever broken my word to you?" The slave hesitated, and then shook her head. "Well, then." Tara released her and patted her cheek. "Keep resting. I'll come back and check on you when we're done." Epona nodded meekly.

It was a fact, Tara thought grimly, that Bernice was not particularly safe at the moment. They had suffered heavy casualties. Of the fifty soldiers that had ridden out with them, only nine remained, and one of the field medics had been killed. Hadrien had been among the dead. Thus Bernice was the only living link to the suspected traitor, and the nine living soldiers were murderously angry. The servant was in Drea's tent right now, her hands bound behind her back, being interrogated.

The warrior let her tent flap close behind her and crossed the distance between her tent and Drea's with long, purposeful strides.

The scene was pretty much unchanged from when Tara had ducked out to check on her wounded slave. Bernice was kneeling in the center of the tent, surrounded by the remaining soldiers. Drea was standing over her. As Tara watched, the warrior caught Bernice by the collar and shook her, hard. _"Bullshit!"_ Drea snarled angrily. "You've been the man's servant for more than a decade, woman. You know damn well what he was up to! Who'd he sell us out to?" Callused knuckles cracked across the servant's mouth, throwing her head to one side. "Start talking, you corn-fed old bitch, or I'll drag you out and feed you to the fire!"

_You promised, Tara._ The redhead closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath. Then, coolly, she stepped into the ring and nudged Drea's arm. "Give me a shot at her," she said. With a glower, Drea released her grip and stepped back, folding her arms over her chest. Tara looked down at their victim.

Despite her bound hands and bloodied lip, Bernice looked as calm and dignified as ever. Tara could see fear glinting in her eyes, but the woman kept her poise. She looked up at the redheaded warrior quietly. "I don't know if Master Hadrien betrayed you," she said softly. "If he did, he didn't tell me about it, Miss Tara. I swear it's the truth."

Tara searched the woman's face, and found herself believing the words. She considered for a minute or two. "If he didn't tell you anything, at least you must have seen who he's talked to," she said. "Who'd he have contact with before he came here, Bernice?"

"His girlfriend, mostly," Bernice said softly. "He went up to be with her. He usually does, during breaks, Miss Tara. I believe she wanted to have a child with him."

"Who is she?" Tara demanded, her eyes narrowing.

Bernice gave a helpless shrug. "She's a younger woman, maybe twenty-five," she said. "Brown hair, black eyes. Her name is Theone. I believe she's part of the honor guard of the queen of a northern Amazon village, but I don't know much more than that. He's never told me much about her, and Master Hadrien wasn't someone I could question."

_Amazons._ Tara stared at the servant for a moment. Then she turned her gaze to Drea, who suddenly looked uncertain. "This wasn't a trap for _us,"_ Tara said quietly. "It was a trap for you and me."

There was silence for a while. Then Drea ground her teeth. "Hera's gods-be-damned hoary tit!" she spat. "We should've gone straight after those bitch Amazons first, and to Hades with this bloody town. _Damn it!"_ Her fists clenched, and her flashing dark eyes fixed on the kneeling servant. "That traitor bastard son of a bitch-whore, Hadrien, might be dead, but damn it, _you're_ not. And we'll bloody well take it out of you!" She started to stride forward, but Tara's hand was suddenly thrust into the center of her breastplate, stopping her cold. She turned an outraged glare on the redhead. "What are you –? Get your hands off me!"

"Drea." Tara kept her voice low and her gaze steady. "This isn't Bernice's fault, all right? She was just his servant. She didn't betray anyone."

"Burn in Tartarus." Drea struck Tara's arm away with a snarl. "Those are my men lying dead out there - _my men!_ Someone's going to _die_ for this."

The taller warrior nodded coldly. "Someone should," she said. "And someone will. The Amazons will, Drea. We'll make them pay." She held the woman's furious gaze steadily. "A lot of people died today. At least one of them was innocent. Do you want to stain your hands with more innocent blood, just because you're angry?" Tara held up her own hand in front of Drea's face and wiggled her fingers. "I've got a lot of innocent blood on mine. And trust me, it isn't all it's cracked up to be."

"Bitch." Drea's snarl was halfhearted. She cast a glare at their bound prisoner. Then, muttering curses, she turned away. "Fine. Have it your way," she growled. "You take her, then. She's your problem. Just keep her the hell away from me, or I swear I'll pull her guts out through her damn nose." Drea gestured sharply at the other soldiers. "Come on. Let's go and take what we came for out of those bloody villagers. They were in on this – let's go rip it out of their filthy hides!" The men followed her with answering snarls and clashing steel.

The last to go was Leander. He paused in the doorway, looking back at Tara. His eyes were somber. "I've never seen anyone fight the way you did last night," he said softly. "It was incredible." Tara jerked her head in acknowledgement. Leander raised his sword and touched it to his forehead in salute. "You're one hell of a warrior, Tara, and one hell of a general. If you hadn't been there, none of us would be, either." With that, he ducked out and let the tent flap fall behind him.

Tara let out her breath slowly and looked down. Bernice was still there, gazing up at her with an unfathomable expression. The warrior drew a knife, cut the ropes that held the servant's wrists, and sheathed the blade again. "Come," Tara said shortly. "If you're going with me, you might as well make yourself useful. Epona's hurt, and I could use a nap. You can watch her for me for a while." She turned and strode away without bothering to see if Bernice was following. After a few seconds, she heard the woman's footsteps scramble to keep up with her.

Epona was sound asleep when they entered Tara's tent. Bernice gave a soft gasp and knelt down at the slave's side. "Oh, the poor thing!" she whispered, laying a gentle hand on the furs that covered her. "What…what happened?"

"She took a sword in the gut," Tara said gruffly, beginning to loosen the straps that held her armor on. "Fortunately, she was falling at the time, and I'd given her some leather armor, so it didn't kill her. She just lost a lot of blood and had a damn good scare." She unbuckled the armor around her legs and set it down. "She's fine, Bernice," she added quietly. "Now come here. You've got blood all over your face. You'd better clean up before I do – I've got a hell of a lot more to wash off."

The servant rose quietly and moved over to the washbasin that lay at Tara's feet. Without a word, she stooped down and washed the blood from her chin. There was a small cut on her lower lip, but she bore no other obvious injuries from her time in Drea's tent. Tara dropped her bracers. Then she began to lift off her shoulder armor. Sharp pain in her back and side made her stop with a hiss. "Damn it!"

Bernice looked up with some concern. "You're injured, Miss Tara," she said. "Your clothes are cut…and your legs, and…" Her hands lifted. "Oh, Miss Tara!"

With some impatience, the warrior forced herself to lift off the last of her armor and drop it. Then she tried to take off her tunic, but found it stiff with dried blood, and stuck to her in several places. It hurt. She suddenly felt profoundly tired. Tara considered plowing through it – she hated showing weakness. Then, with a weary glare in Bernice's direction, the warrior sat down heavily on a stool. She was just too tired to care. "Do me a favor?" she murmured.

The servant quickly got up and moved to her side. "Of course, my lady," she said gently. "Just relax. I'll take care of you." Bernice dipped a rag into the washbasin and began to bathe the wounds on Tara's body. After a few minute's work, she managed to loosen the blood enough to peel the garment away from the warrior's skin. Tara sat silently as the older woman's gentle hands went to work on a long gash on her thigh, and another on her other calf. Her leggings finally peeled away. The warrior was filthy and exhausted. She glanced at the corner that held her saddlebags, wondering if it was worth the trouble of going and getting a clean shirt before collapsing onto the ground to sleep.

As if Tara had spoken her desires, Bernice quickly went and found one of the soft shirts that Epona and her owner slept in. The servant laid it down at Tara's feet, and then examined the gashes that marred the woman's torso. "These really should be taken care of before you rest, Miss Tara," she said softly. "I used to do this for Master Hadrien. Would you like me to…?"

"Yes. Please." _What the hell,_ Tara thought ruefully. _I'm already sitting here naked and gashed up. What's the point of standing on ceremony now?_ She sat as still and as silent as a stone as Bernice carefully stitched and bandaged her wounds. The woman spread liniment over a nasty bruise on Tara's left side, too. The warrior thought she could remember being clipped there by a mace in the course of the fighting. It hadn't hurt at all when it had happened – but then, she'd been in full battle rage by then. She didn't really feel much, or remember much, when that happened.

The wounds were dressed, but Bernice didn't stop there. She used the rag to bathe the rest of the blood and filth and woad off Tara's skin. Then she brought fresh water. "If you'll lie back, Miss Tara, I'll wash your hair for you," she said quietly. The warrior was in no mood to argue. She did as the servant requested, and closed her eyes as Bernice washed the rest of the gore out of her hair. Then Tara was dressed in the clean shirt.

She'd tossed out an extra sleeping mat beforehand. Now Tara lay down on it with a groan of relief and pulled a soft fur over herself. Bernice gave her a quiet smile. "Thank you, Miss Tara," she said softly. "I'll never forget what you did for me today." Tara cast her a sour look, and Bernice bowed her head, her smile unchanged. "I'll take good care of the little one for you while you sleep."

"Good," Tara grunted. "If she wants anything, get it for her. I'll replace it later. And don't you leave my tent, you got it? If Drea catches you out there, she might do something stupid."

Bernice bowed her head. "As you wish, Miss Tara."

Tara grunted again, eyed the woman, and then let her eyes close. She was weary. In a very few minutes, the world faded away, and the tired warrior fell into a deep and well-earned sleep.


	29. Chapter 29

There were only a few clouds in the sky, and none came between the sun and the small patch of emerald grass on which Tara was reclining. She felt warm and lazy and almost relaxed, for the first time in several days. Perhaps it was the weather, which was really clear for the first time since they'd set out from Argos. Perhaps it was the free time, in which she could relax. Or perhaps it was the warm smell of the grass on which she lay.

Or perhaps it was the pleasant weight of the curly head that lay across her legs. Tara's lips curved as she felt Epona's small hand gently rub her thigh. She peered down at the slave, and found soft green eyes looking back at her. "What d'you want, you scruffy little rodent?" she growled.

"Nothing." Epona smiled peacefully. "Just lying here is good."

Tara raised a brow. "You think so, huh?" She regarded the slave with a mixture of affection and exasperation. "I'm the Terror of Gaelis, you know, you presumptuous skinny squirt. I'm not a pillow."

"I know." The smaller girl hugged her leg and gazed at her in adoration.

"Gods." Tara groaned and let her head fall back onto the turf. "Well, fine," she grumbled. "But if you ever look at me like that in public, I'm going to whip that runty little bottom of yours raw, you understand?" She heard Epona giggle faintly, and her exasperation grew. She couldn't help but feel that she'd pretty much lost control of this situation – and, worse than that, she couldn't bring herself to do what it would take to get that control back. That was mostly because regaining control would mean scaring some respect back into the little slave, and that scaring would probably involve some heavy-duty threats or actual violence. And _that_ was something that Tara found herself increasingly unwilling to do. She closed her eyes and groaned again. "Gods. You'll be the death of me yet, you know that?"

"Ma'am?" Epona sounded genuinely bewildered.

"Never mind." Tara sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose. She looked down toward the bank of the nearby creek. "How's that laundry coming?"

Bernice looked up. She had a washboard braced against her knees, and was busily scrubbing what looked like one of Tara's lighter tunics. "Almost finished, Miss Tara," the servant said. "Just another fifteen minutes or so, I think."

"Good." The warrior stretched lazily. "All this lounging around is getting to me," she mumbled. "Think I'm going to take Cerberus out for a long, hard run once this is done. Do us both some good." Her hand drifted down to stroke the slave's dark curls. "He doesn't like sitting around any more than I do." Epona reached up to capture the woman's arm. The warrior's breath caught in her throat as the slave very softly kissed the tip of each of her fingers – the touch of the girl's lips sent tingles up Tara's arm. Epona smiled shyly when she'd finished, and pressed Tara's callused palm against her cheek. Tara had to take several deep breaths to steady herself again.

This was bizarre. The warrior couldn't remember anybody ever having had this kind of an effect on her. Maggie she'd loved, but they'd both been too young for any kind of romantic attraction. She had a sort of rough affection for Drea, but there were no illusions about that – she'd feel some regret if she lost the woman, and little more. But this…this was like nothing Tara had ever felt. What power did this slender little slave hold over her, Tara wondered? The force was invisible, but tremendously strong. It had gentled Tara's rough hands and mellowed her words. It had captured her attention during that battle – it had driven her to new heights and great lengths in warfare. It had bound her wild spirit with chains as unbreakable as they were invisible, and strangely, she couldn't even bring herself to resent the captivity.

Tara reached down, grasped Epona firmly by her arm, and drew her up until they lay face-to-face. She tugged the young woman into her arms and lay studying her features in silence. Epona bore the scrutiny quietly, returning her gaze with a faint smile. "You." Tara laid a finger against the slave's button nose. "Are trouble."

"Am I?" The moss-green eyes widened in surprise and worry. "Why? I do everything you tell me, don't I?"

"You do." Tara kissed the spot where her finger had just rested. "Oh, you do." The slave's pink mouth beckoned, and Tara kissed that, as well. She lingered over the kiss, nibbling lightly at Epona's soft lips. Small hands curled over her arms. The warrior had to stifle a groan. She pulled back and closed her eyes. "Damn," she whispered.

Epona laid her hands against Tara's chest. "What is it, ma'am?" she asked, her pale brow creased with worry. "Did I do something wrong?"

The warrior shook her head. "No. Nothing." She slid her hand down to rest on curve of the slave's hip. "It's not your fault," she muttered, leaning in to nibble on Epona's earlobe. "You're just too damned delicious for your own good." She heard the slave giggle again as she trailed soft, lover's bites down the side of her neck. Then Tara stopped. Her breath was coming faster, and she wanted nothing more than to continue. "Wish she'd finish that bloody laundry already," she said. "We can't really continue this conversation here."

Innocent green eyes peered at her. "I think we could," Epona murmured. "It's the kissing we couldn't do more of."

"Lippy little rat." Tara sat up abruptly and looked over to where the servant knelt at the bank of the brook. Bernice was just wringing out the last garment and laying it in her basket. "Hey, you finished yet?" she growled. "Haven't got all day."

"It's done, Miss Tara," Bernice said respectfully, laying her washboard on top of the damp laundry and hefting the basket into her arms. "I'm sorry it took so long."

Tara grunted and rose to her feet, extending a hand down to Epona. The little slave took it, and the warrior hauled her up. "Good of you to do it," she said gruffly. "Saves the mouse a bit of trouble. Basket's kind of heavy for her, I think."

"It's not that bad." Epona thrust out her lower lip. "I'm not _that_ little."

"Sure, you are." The warrior tweaked her nose and laughed at the indignant squeak this produced. "But that's all right. I chose you for that." Tara's grin widened. "…Among other things." A furious blush reddened Epona's face, and Tara couldn't help laughing again. "Come on, then, the both of you. I still want to go and give Cerberus a good run. Bernice, you'll have to come with – I still don't want the others catching you alone. It's not safe." The three of them headed back toward the camp.

Epona trotted alongside her owner and peered up at her worriedly. "Does that mean I can't come?" she asked.

"Not this time, Epona." They reached Tara's tent. The warrior ruffled her slave girl's hair affectionately. "You can hang up the laundry to dry. Then do what you like. Take a nap, read your books, pick some flowers – whatever. We'll be back in a few hours." Epona's lip quivered, and Tara sighed. "There's no sense in all of us going, all right? Just do it."

The slave hung her head. "Yes, ma'am," she whispered. "I…I just don't like being here…alone."

"You'll be fine." Tara clapped her on the back and turned away. "Come on, Bernice. Let's go find that warhorse of mine."

Bernice hesitated. Then she slipped over to Epona and hugged her. "We'll be back soon, Pony," she said kindly. "It won't be long. If you hang up that laundry and read a story or two, you'll hardly know we're gone." The slave gave a soft whimper, and the older woman hesitated.

"Come _on,_ Bernice," Tara said impatiently, striding off to where the camp's horses were kept. She heard the servant murmur a soft apology to Epona, and felt a twinge of guilt. _Don't be stupid,_ she growled at herself. _The kid will be fine here for a few hours. It's not as if she has to be glued to me all the time, right? She'll be all smiles again once we get back._

Cerberus was, indeed, restless. Tara could tell by the way he kept prancing and snorting as she harnessed him. She didn't bother with a saddle. With an athletic vault, Tara swung up and onto his back, gripping hard with her knees. The massive beast hopped and cantered sideways with a toss of his black head. "Stop that, you," she said, slapping the side of his neck. "You'll have your run in a bit. Behave!" He rolled his eyes at her, but quieted a bit. "Good boy." Tara scratched his mane and looked down at the waiting servant. "Come on, Bernice. Let's go find a spot where I can let this big boy have his fun for a while." Bernice inclined her head, and Tara guided Cerberus up the road with a click of her tongue.

They traveled for about half an hour before they found an open space. It was a gentle downward slope, dotted sparsely with clumps of bush, and Tara could see that it stretched out for a couple of miles. She grinned. "I think this'll do. Hey, Bernice?" The servant nodded quietly. "You wait here," Tara instructed, and dug her heels into the horse's flanks. Cerberus needed no encouragement; he snorted and broke into a gallop.

It was exhilarating. Tara found herself laughing in delight as the breeze whipped into her face. She could feel the beast's powerful muscles flexing and moving beneath her. She let him have his head, and Cerberus put on another burst of speed. His hooves hardly seemed to touch the ground – he fairly flew over the thick grass. The wind screamed past them, making Tara's eyes water until she couldn't even see. She clung to his neck and screwed her eyes shut, still grinning excitedly. "That's it, boy!" she yelled into the howling wind. "Show 'em how it's done. Run, boy, run!"

For a long time, the great beast simply galloped, expending his boundless energy in pure speed and distance. Tara let him go until he finally slowed his pace on his own. Then she took up the reins again and began to guide him, jumping him over fallen logs and putting him through his paces. It was sheer joy.

When Cerberus was finally tired, Tara almost felt disappointed. She rubbed his neck and smiled. "We're done, hey, boy? Had enough exercise?" The warhorse snorted and shook himself. "All right, then. Let's go find Bernice and go back to camp. I'll give you a rubdown and a nice bran mash for dinner. How's that sound?" Tara grinned to herself as she rode up toward the road. She found herself looking forward to seeing her little slave again, too. _She'll be glad to see me,_ Tara thought. _I'll think of something to make this up to her. Maybe I'll take her to the market next time we're in town, and get her something pretty to wear…maybe something like that belt she admired in the leatherworker's shop?_ The warrior imagined placing that belt around Epona's waist, and smiled. _Betcha I'd get more than a smile for that. I'd better get at least a few kisses._

Bernice was waiting patiently where Tara had left her. She rose to her feet and dusted off her leggings as the warhorse approached. "Are you done, Miss Tara?"

"I'm through. I think the old boy's worn himself out." The redhead slapped her mount's neck and nodded. "Let's get back to camp. It'll be suppertime soon, and I could use a good meal." The servant fell into step beside Cerberus, and they headed down the road toward the mercenary camp.

The smell of roasting meat wafted to Tara's nose as she rode toward the tents. She breathed it and sighed in satisfaction. Her eyes flicked down to Bernice. "You might as well go and see what Epona's up to," she said. "I'm going to take care of Cerberus, here. Stay in the tent until I get there, all right?" The servant nodded quietly, and Tara guided her mount in the direction of the other horses.

There would be serious things to consider soon. They were making their slow way toward Abdera, the nearest city. She and Drea planned to make a recruiting circuit throughout northern Argonia from there, heading to Philippi, then Amphipolis, and perhaps as far west as Olynthus and Potidea. If necessary, they'd find themselves a ship and sail through the islands – Limnos, Imbros, Samothrace and Thassos. Once they had a large enough force, they were going to ride out against the Amazons. They'd decided to begin with Agathyrsi, the nearest northern Amazon tribe. As best they could discover, the queen of that tribe was named Thalestris, and she had at least three hundred Amazon warriors at her disposal.

But for now, it was good to run the brush over the warhorse's satin-smooth sides. Tara hummed tonelessly as she worked, breathing in the scent of warm grass and horse and leather. She felt very relaxed.

"Miss Tara!" The cry broke into her reverie. Tara looked up from her work with a frown. Bernice was hurrying across the grass toward her. The servant looked alarmed. "Miss Tara," she panted. "It's Pony…she…"

"What?" Tara straightened abruptly as fear washed over her. "Is she hurt?"

"No, my lady." Bernice wrung her hands. "She's gone!"

It took Tara a moment or two to process this statement. "Gone? What in blazes do you mean, she's gone?" she asked sharply.

"She's vanished," the servant blurted. "The washing's only half hung up. She's not in the tent, my lady, and her cloak's missing. She's disappeared!"

It was hard to put a finger on how Tara was feeling at the moment. Furious – anxious – betrayed – hurt. She gritted her teeth for a moment as she thought furiously. "All right," she said tightly. "You stay here. I'll be back in a minute." And she strode across the camp toward her tent.

It was as Bernice had said. Six or seven damp garments were hung up on the branches of a nearby tree, but the rest were still in the basket, with the exception of one that was flung haphazardly in the grass. There was no sign of the slave. Tara ducked into the tent and took in its contents at a glance. One of the bedrolls was missing, and Epona's cloak and heavy boots were gone from their places. Tara clenched her jaw at the sight. Something caught her eye as she turned; she paused, stooping over her own bedroll. Something small and glittering lay on top of the dark furs. She picked it up. Epona's horse-head pendant rested against her palm.

Tara's throat and chest constricted for a moment in unbearable pain – then fury exploded through her, washing away the anguish in waves of violent rage. With a snarl, the warrior flung the necklace from her and snatched up her sword. She strapped it around her waist. Before leaving the tent, Tara also caught up her still-unused whip. She looped it onto her belt as she stalked back to where she'd left Cerberus.

Bernice shivered and looked away when her gaze met Tara's blazing eyes. Without a word, the warrior replaced her horse's harness and saddled him. Cerberus rolled his eyes and shook his ears at this, but gave no serious resistance. Tara swung up into the saddle and extended her hand down to the servant. "Grab hold," she growled. The woman obeyed, and Tara pulled her up behind her. "Hang on," she said tersely. "And keep quiet!" With that, the scowling warrior set out to track down her runaway slave.


	30. Chapter 30

It didn't take long for Tara to find Epona's tracks – the marks left by her small boots were distinctive. Her sharp eyes scanned the dust of the road, following the footprints. Every now and then they lifted to sweep the road ahead for any sign of the runaway slave. She could feel Bernice trembling a bit behind her, but she ignored her. Tara was fuming.

_How dare she run off? How dare she!?_ Tara ground her teeth at the sight of another clear footprint in the dirt road. _And after I almost got killed saving her damn life. Stupid, ungrateful little bitch!_ A red mist of rage threatened to rise up before the warrior's eyes. She forced herself to breathe steadily and unclench her hands from around her horse's reins. _I'll kill her,_ she snarled to herself. _I swear I'll stick a sword through her skinny little gut! I'll…I'll…_ She paused suddenly, her eyes narrowing as she peered down at the tracks she was following. They had veered to the side. "She went off the road," she muttered.

"Is she alone?" Bernice's voice was soft and troubled.

"What?" Tara looked at her sharply, examined the tracks for a moment, and then looked at her again. "Of course. Why wouldn't she be?" Bernice looked away. "You had better not know more about this that you're saying!" Tara snarled.

"No! N-no, Miss Tara." The servant paled visibly and swallowed hard. "I just…didn't think Pony would do something like this by herself. I wondered if someone had taken her, maybe."

"If they did, she's carrying them piggy-back." Tara pulled Cerberus to a stop. "She went off the road here," she said shortly. "Give me your hand – we're getting down." Bernice complied without a word. Tara swung her down to the ground, and then hopped down herself. She passed the reins into Bernice's hand. "Hang on to him. I'm going after her," she said coldly. "Let him graze, he didn't get much to eat. If I'm gone longer than an hour or so, maybe lead him down to the brook to drink, too. But make sure you stay in this area, because I'll be back." The servant inclined her head quietly. Scowling, Tara turned off the road and followed the slave's trail into the woods.

It wasn't hard to follow. Epona had little knowledge of woodcraft, and left many broken branches, crushed grass stems and scuffed trees for her tracker. The warrior could feel her initial burst of temper cooling as she walked. She was still angry, but the rest mist no longer threatened to overwhelm her, and she could think more clearly. _Why?_ Tara ducked under a tree branch and carefully avoided a thorn bush. _Why would she suddenly run off like this? It doesn't make sense. She's got nowhere to go._ The warrior paused to look around, found another broken branch, and headed to the right. _This makes no sense at all. I wonder if Bernice does know something? Epona's alone, there's no tracks with hers, but…maybe someone did something to her? Maybe scared her, or something? She did leave in the middle of hanging up laundry._

Tara hopped lightly over a log and kept going, her sharp eyes following the signs of the small slave's passing. She felt the weight of the sword at her side as it brushed against a bush. Remembering her murderous thoughts, Tara couldn't help wincing, despite the anger and hurt that remained. _No. I'm not going to kill her. That was just my damn temper talking._ She drew in a slow breath. _Gods, Epona. Why are you doing this? Why do this to me? And what the hell am I supposed to do with you when I find you?_

…Maybe I'll just have to decide that once I have found you. Tara firmly shut out her thoughts and concentrated on her tracking.

She was surprised at how long this was taking. If she'd thought about it, Tara would have expected to find the little slave within an hour or two of leaving the camp. But now night was falling, and she still wasn't within earshot of Epona. It grew darker, until finally Tara had to stop. _Damn it!_ The warrior looked up through the trees. She could see a faint glow on the horizon where the moon was. _I'll have to wait until the moon rises a bit more…I can't follow her until I can see better._ With a growl, Tara threw herself down at the foot of a tree and circled her knees with her arms. _I'll whip her for this,_ she vowed. _I'll string her up by her wrists and flay her alive!_

It took about an hour and a half for the moon to rise high enough to give Tara some more light. Then she rose to her feet and continued following Epona's trail. She had to go slower now, as the moonlight was more difficult to navigate by. Her irritation went up. _Damn that stupid little…it's bloody dangerous out here. Doesn't she know there are bears in these woods? She could get herself killed._ Tara sighed as she ducked through a narrow space between two trees. _Gods, why'd I ever saddle myself with her? As if I didn't have enough problems._

The night wore on. Still Tara couldn't find the little slave. The moon sank lower, until at last she had to stop again. She thought it must be about four in the morning – the sun wouldn't rise for another hour or two. Tara gave a resigned sigh as she sat down to wait for the light.

When the sun rose, the warrior got up and strode down the trail purposefully. "All right, kid," she muttered. "This is ending, and soon. No more of this nonsense!" She broke into a loping run.

For hours Tara jogged, still following the slave's tracks. She could detect weariness in the smeared footprints and the increasing number of broken branches. It probably wouldn't be long now, she judged; even if Epona had kept going all night, she couldn't have been moving very quickly. The warrior kept her senses sharp, scanning the woods around her for any sign of the small girl's presence.

At last, as the sun was nearing the peak of its journey, Tara finally caught her first glimpse of her quarry. The woods had thinned out a little, and she could see across a small valley. A thin, bedraggled, gray-cloaked figure was laboriously climbing up the hill on the other side. As Tara's pace picked up, she saw Epona's head turn. She heard the soft cry of alarm that passed the girl's lips, and saw the slave break into a run. The warrior, however, didn't sprint. Now that she'd actually laid eyes on the girl, she knew it wouldn't be long.

She jogged for another twenty minutes or so, crossing the valley and climbing the opposite hill. Epona's trail was glaringly obvious now that the girl was running scared. She'd run into a couple of thorn bushes already, and had fallen a few times – Tara could see the smears in the dirt where the slave had pushed herself back up. The warrior kept going.

Now she could hear the fleeing girl ahead. There were cracking branches and rustling leaves, and – faintly – deep, sobbing breaths. Tara loped on, still without haste. She came to another clearing, and spotted Epona stumbling through it. The runaway tripped and fell hard as Tara watched. Weeping now, Epona scrambled up and looked over her shoulder. When she spotted her owner, now no more than fifty yards behind her, she fell on her knees with a despairing cry and buried her face in her hands. She didn't move again.

Tara slowed down and finally stopped, perhaps six feet from where the sobbing slave knelt. Her eyes narrowed as she studied Epona. The girl's clothing was tattered and torn from her flight, revealing pale skin that was bruised and bleeding. There were leaves tangled in her dark hair, and she looked exhausted. Tara slowly moved forward until she was standing over the weeping girl and dealt her a light cuff to the ear, more of a caress than a blow. "What in Tartarus is wrong with you?" she growled. "Have you gone insane? What are you doing out here?"

"I'm s-sorry," Epona sobbed. "I'm sorry, ma'am. I d-didn't know what else to do!" She choked then. She was crying too hard to really speak.

"You didn't know what else to do?" Tara echoed in disbelief. "So, what – is this some kind of crazy suicide attempt? Are you _trying_ to get me to kill you?" Epona cried even harder. The warrior sighed heavily, realizing that she wasn't going to get any sense out of the girl unless she could calm her down. She crouched down to Epona's level and pulled her hands down, taking the pale face between her own palms. "Listen, take a few deep breaths, all right? Relax. I just want to talk to you," she said firmly.

"I'm sorry," the slave choked out.

"Shh." Tara caught the girl's green eyes pointedly with her own. "Deep breaths," she said sternly. "That's right. Again." Epona obediently gulped air. As she did so, the force of her sobs diminished. "That's better," the warrior said, releasing the slave's head. "Now, take another breath, and tell me why you'd run away like that. Slowly."

Epona drew in a shuddering breath. "I c-couldn't stand it anymore," she whispered. "I thought maybe if I ran, I might get away, or…or if not, that you'd probably kill me, and then at least it would all be over."

"What would all be over?" Tara felt her anger melting away at the sight of the slave's distress. She struggled with herself for a moment, trying to regain it, before giving up and reaching out for her. Epona shivered and cried softly as the warrior drew her into her arms. "What would be over?" Tara asked again, her tone softening. "Have I really made things so horrible for you that you'd rather die?" Now she felt a pang of guilt, remembering the many times she'd struck the smaller girl.

The slave choked and buried her face into Tara's broad shoulder. "No," she managed. "N-no, ma'am, it's…it's better now that I know you don't hate me. I…it's n-not you."

"Hate you?" The warrior's brow creased.

Epona didn't seem to hear her. "I'm s-sorry," she sobbed. "I'm sorry…"

It was obvious that the girl was too exhausted and upset to really make much sense. Tara sighed deeply and pulled her close to comfort her. _So what now?_ She looked at the shivering form in her arms ruefully. _Gods, what a mess this is. She's a runaway slave…I should be having her hanged, or at least beating her, and all I want to do is hold her and tell her it's okay. What in Tartarus is wrong with me?_ She glanced up at the sun and thought for a moment. "Okay," she said finally, "here's what we're going to do." The slave shuddered, but said nothing. "You're obviously pretty tired by now. I'm going to carry you back to camp. We'll talk later, and I'll figure out what I'm going to do with you then. All right?"

The slave clung to her. "Are you going to kill me?" she whispered. "If…if you are, please just do it now, ma'am. Don't make me wait."

Tara closed her eyes and swallowed hard. She couldn't help but think of the murderous thoughts she'd had during the first flares of her anger. Tara's face flushed with sudden shame. "I'm not going to kill you," she said gently. "All right, Epona? That isn't an option." The slave had rolled up the stolen bedroll into a bundle, and had been carrying it on her back. Tara took it and slung it over her own shoulder. Then she slipped her hands beneath the shivering girl and lifted her up. Epona's arms wrapped tightly around her neck. "That's right. You hang on. Just rest," the warrior said. "I'll take care of things." She got up, hefting her burden carefully. Epona's curly head rested against Tara's chest as the warrior turned and headed back toward the road.

The route they'd taken had been a twisting, winding one. Tara cut straight back toward the road instead. Even carrying the weary runaway in her arms, she managed to make the journey to it in about five hours. Another half-hour's walk brought her back to where she'd left Bernice and Cerberus.

The servant was there, still dutifully waiting. She got up quickly as soon as she caught sight of the warrior and her burden. "You found her!" Bernice blurted. "Is she all right, Miss Tara? Did someone hurt her?"

"She's fine," Tara said curtly. The slave was awake, but hadn't spoken a word since Tara had picked her up. She closed her eyes and shivered now as the warrior set her down on her feet. "We'll ride back," Tara said, and swung into the saddle. Without a word, the runaway reached up, and the warrior caught her arm and swung her up in front of her. "You follow, Bernice. We're going back to my tent."

No one spoke during the short journey. When they reached the camp, Tara lifted the slave down and then swung herself to the ground. She passed the reins to Bernice. "Find someone to take care of him for me," she said shortly. "I'm going to eat, and then I'm going to make this stupid kid tell me what in Tartarus she thought she was doing." She grasped Epona roughly by the arm. The slave whimpered softly as Tara pulled her into the dimness of the tent.

Once inside, Tara pushed the wretched girl into a corner. Epona sank down to her knees and huddled there, shivering, while her owner dug some trail rations out of one of her saddlebags. Scowling, Tara sat down and began to munch. Neither of them said anything until Tara finally stopped eating and drew herself up. "Well?" she said sharply. Epona flinched and hung her head. "Start talking to me, Epona." Tara's voice was grave. "What possessed you to run away like that? What were you running from?"

Epona was crying again. "I…I can't," she pleaded. "I couldn't do it anymore…"

"Do _what?"_ Tara snarled, letting her frustration get the better of her for a moment. "You keep saying that. What in blazes are you talking about? What can't you do anymore – morning workouts? What?"

The slave was shaking her head vigorously. "No! No, nothing like that."

"Then what?" Tara felt another rush of annoyance as Epona simply shook her head once more. She surged forward and caught the slave roughly by the scruff of her neck – she heard Epona utter a squeal of terror. "Tell me, damn it!" she roared. "What was so bloody awful that you'd rather die than live? Spit it out, and quit wasting my time."

The tent flap opened just then, and Bernice ducked inside. She stopped dead for a moment at the sight of the warrior. Then, quickly, the servant slipped forward and knelt down. "Miss Tara," she said softly, "let me talk to her for a moment. Please. Maybe I can help."

Tara glared at her. "Fine. So talk," she snapped, without releasing her grip on her hapless slave's neck.

Bernice took her at her word. She turned to the weeping Epona and laid her hand on the slave's arm. "Tell her, little one," she said simply. Epona uttered a sob and shook her head. "Yes," Bernice insisted. "There's nothing to lose now. Tell her! Maybe you're wrong. Maybe she'll understand. Tell her, Pony." She squeezed the girl's arm. "Be the brave girl I know you are."

There was a pause as Epona visibly struggled with herself. At last, the slave let her head drop. "Okay," she whispered. Bernice patted her and let her go. Slowly, Epona raised her wet eyes to meet her owner's angry brown ones. "I couldn't stand it anymore." Her voice was tiny, almost inaudible. "It's…when you leave, ma'am, I…it's not my fault, I swear it! I'm not as strong, I can't stop it from happening…"

"Can't stop what from happening?" Tara released the girl, staring at her in unfeigned bewilderment. "Epona, what are you talking about?"

The slave shuddered and hung her head, squeezing her eyes closed. As Tara watched, she seemed to fold in on herself, wrapping her arms around her own body as if she wanted to vanish entirely. "When you go," Epona whispered, "Drea comes. She…she forces me. I c-can't stop her…she's stronger than I am, ma'am…I swear it's not my fault…"

The warrior couldn't seem to maker herself understand what the slave was saying. She stared at her stupidly – and then, as the words sank in, with growing disbelief. "She _what?"_ Tara breathed.

Epona was crying again. Her slender body shook as she sobbed like a child. "I can't stop her," she whimpered. "I'm s-sorry…s-she said you'd kill me if I t-told you! You won't, will you, ma'am? P-please don't."

Tara felt strangely numb. Mechanically, she pulled her slave against herself and held her, feeling the girl's shuddering sobs. _It all makes sense now,_ she thought dully. _The kid's been acting weird about being left alone for a long time, now. All those times she'd just ball herself up in a corner, like she was trying to hide from someone…gods, how could I have been so blind?_ The warrior had to swallow a couple of times to make her voice work. "How long has this been going on?" she asked huskily.

Small hands balled themselves up into fists. "Since that first day you had me carry your armor up that hill in Argos," Epona said faintly. "You remember?"

Tara remembered, and felt sick. "Gods," she groaned softly. "Gods, and I…I wouldn't listen. I just slapped you across the face." The slave trembled and nodded. Guilt flooded the warrior's breast; she clasped Epona's curly head against her shoulder and closed her eyes tightly. _I'm her owner. It's my job to keep her safe, and I've failed miserably…I've…oh, gods, what a stupid old bitch I am!_ A lump rose in Tara's throat. She choked it down and lowered her head to whisper into Epona's ear. "No more," she said softly. Her fingers gently caressed the black curls that lay against her shoulder. "It won't happen any more. Do you understand, little mouse? I won't let anyone hurt you ever again." The slave clung to her, and Tara hugged her close for a long, pained moment.

Then the warrior drew a deep breath and gently disengaged the slave's arms. Her dark eyes found Bernice's. "I have something to do. Take care of her," she said gruffly. "She'll be hungry, so give her some of my trail rations. Don't go to sleep, though – either of you. Understand?" The servant nodded wordlessly. Tara got up and slipped out of the tent without a backward glance.

The sun was sinking lower, and the small camp was bathed in the golden light of evening. Drea's tent sat proudly in the center of the others. Four pikes ringed it, on which were set the four skulls she'd taken after the battle – three were leaders of the town that had betrayed them, and one was the head of the general of the small army they'd managed to defeat. Tara strode toward it. Two men stood guard at the door. They moved as if to intercept her; then, as she flashed them a murderous glare, they seemed to think better of it. Without slackening her pace, Tara threw aside the tent flap and burst inside.

Drea was sitting cross-legged on the ground, dressed in her full armor, poring over her map of northern Argonia. She looked up in surprise and annoyance at the interruption. Then, as she took in the look on Tara's face, Drea's expression grew wary. "Hey, Terror," she said. "What's up?"

Coldly, Tara strode forward, caught the woman by the leather collar of her undertunic, and jerked her right off her feet. Drea squawked in indignation and astonishment. "How about this, Drea?" Tara growled, her voice dropping to its lowest register. "You take one more breath and tell me why I shouldn't break your neck right now for daring to lay your hands on my slave."

"Y-your…" The smaller warrior looked dismayed for a moment, and then gave a nervous laugh. "Oh, you mean Pony? Come on, Terror, it isn't that big a deal, is it? It's not like I was doing anything you don't – _awk!"_ Drea choked as the blade of Tara's sword was suddenly pressed beneath her ear.

The redhead's teeth were bared in a snarl. "Epona…is…_mine,"_ she hissed. "I've told you that. And I _told_ you to keep your slimy hands _off_ her, Drea. So you give me one good reason I shouldn't cut your bitch head off and add it to your little collection outside!"

"What?" The dark-skinned woman looked genuinely shocked at this. "Tara, come on. It's me – it's Drea. You remember. Your drinking buddy? We've been sword sisters for more than ten years. Just…just calm down, okay? We can work this out."

Tara's icy eyes searched hers. "Right. And since you've known me for more than ten years, maybe you can tell me what made you think I'd spare anyone who crossed me like this." Her sharp blade pressed harder into Drea's throat; a thin trickle of blood flowed down the side of the woman's neck. She watched as fear slowly bled the color from Drea's face. "And maybe you can tell me why you'd do something so damned stupid."

All pretense of good nature fell away, and Drea snarled up at her. "As if you don't know!" she snapped. "I should've known you'd pick that slutty little useless waif of yours over me like this. That's all you've been doing since the beginning, isn't it?"

There was a note in Drea's voice that gave Tara pause. She hesitated, her brow creasing. "What?"

"That's right – act innocent," Drea snarled. "Act like you haven't strung me along all these years. Act like you thought taking me to your bed was nothing!" She shoved Tara, hard, with both hands. The larger woman staggered back a step, her arms falling bonelessly to her sides. "And then you took _her_ over me," Drea sneered. Her dark eyes were visibly moist. "What's she got that I don't, huh, Tara? Tell me! Is it her noble blood? Am I just not _good enough_ for you? And I practically threw myself at you. I flaunted my conquests at you, and you…you took some wilting little know-nothing whore slave instead, just to spite me. You bitch!"

Tara's mouth hung open. _Has the whole damned world gone nuts?_ Reeling, she tried to collect her scattered senses. "I…didn't know, Drea," she faltered. "I never thought that you…"

"Bullshit." Drea's hands were clenched into fists.

Several things came into focus at once. First, Tara knew without doubt that her first loyalty lay with the little slave who had stolen her heart – she had to make sure that Epona was safe from now on. And second, she knew that she couldn't bring herself to harm Drea, now, either. She took a deep breath. "I think it's best if I leave," she said in a low voice. "This has gotten ugly enough. I'm…I didn't mean to hurt you, but I have to make sure you can't hurt Epona again."

"Leave?" Drea echoed, outraged. "You can't leave! I can't do any of this without you, Tara. You know that! After what happened on that battlefield, no one would follow me anywhere if you left!"

"I'm sorry, Drea." Tara sheathed her sword and began to turn away.

"Don't you dare turn away from me." The smaller warrior caught her roughly by the arm. "What about the Amazons? Don't you want to make them pay for what they've done? Tara, don't go. I can't do it without you!" The redhead pulled her wrist firmly out of Drea's grip and walked out of the tent. The woman's furious shrieks followed her. "You'll pay for this, you Gael bitch! You'll be sorry you ever laid eyes on me. I'll make you regret the day you were born!"

Bernice and Epona looked up as Tara entered the tent. The warrior crossed to where she'd left her armor and began to put it on. "Pack up," she said shortly. "Pack everything, even the tent. We're leaving." Neither of them said anything; they obeyed quietly. Tara slung her shield on her back and took up her javelin. "I'm going to get Cerberus and choose us another horse," she said. "Pack as quickly as you can. I want to put as much distance between us and this camp as we can." Then she headed for where the horses were grazing.

Cerberus was sitting in the grass, his great forelegs folded under his bulk, and his noble head drooping wearily. Tara gave a deep sigh at the sight. She moved over to him and began to scratch him behind his ears. "I'm sorry about this, boy," she said gently. "I know you're tired…so am I. But we have to go." The great warhorse rolled his eyes and bared his sharp teeth. "I know, boy. I know." Tara rubbed his mighty shoulders. "Tell you what. I'll catch you a little friend and get that one ready first, all right? You just relax until then."

In the couple of days following the battle, Drea's remaining men had stripped the nearby village of everything of value. Those who resisted had been slaughtered. What they couldn't take with them, the mercenaries had destroyed. Tara hadn't taken part in that, mostly because she'd been nursing her wounded slave and guarding Bernice's life. Now she looked over the horses they'd taken. There were eight of them – fine, strong geldings, mostly, with chocolate brown coats and intelligent eyes.

Tara's gaze fell on one of them. He flicked his ears at her curiously. The warrior approached him, and he didn't shy away. Clucking her tongue and murmuring soothing words, Tara let him sniff her, and then gently ran her hands over him. He had fine, strong muscles and a smooth coat. Pleased, she peered at his teeth and hooves. "You're a pretty boy, aren't you?" she said, smiling. "How'd you like to come with me, hey? I'll take good care of you, and I've got a little slave who'll probably give you some ridiculous name. What do you think?" The horse whuffed at her and nibbled her hair. "Good, good," Tara said with a grin. "You just hold still, then, while I get you fixed up."

In a very few minutes, Tara had saddled and bridled her new acquisition. She tethered him near where Cerberus was resting, and then went to harness her warhorse. The black beast laid his ears back and rolled his eyes, but he allowed himself to be saddled and bridled, as well. Tara rubbed his neck. "Sorry, boy," she said again. "I'll make it up to you, I promise. Next time we come across some apples, they're all yours, all right?" Cerberus nickered crossly.

A soft cry of her name drew Tara's attention. She turned to find Bernice and Epona approaching, both staggering under the weight of full saddlebags. The servant nodded at her. "It's done, mostly," she said. "This is everything in the tent, Miss Tara, and the tent itself's almost packed up. I can bring it here in a couple of minutes."

"Good. That's good." Tara let out a long breath. "Let's load the horses up, then. Stay here, Bernice. I really shouldn't let you go off by yourself…Drea's pretty angry." The servant bowed her head, and the three of them loaded the things onto the waiting mounts. Epona lingered over the new horse, stroking his nose and peering quietly up at him. She seemed to approve of Tara's choice. The warrior was secretly pleased. "Okay, let's mount up," she said. "Bernice, you can ride that one. I'll take Epona on Cerberus. Let's go get the tent and get out of here. The sooner we're out of this place, the better I'll feel." Within a few minutes, the three of them were riding westward, leaving the mercenary camp behind them in the gathering gloom.


	31. Chapter 31

Tara lay staring up at the starry sky.

The three of them had traveled all night and all the next day, stopping only for short rests. Tara had pushed them on, fearing that Drea might come after them. At last, as the sun had set, she'd allowed her weary companions to set up camp. If she glanced across the flames of their small supper fire, Tara could see their slumbering forms huddled beneath their furs. Beyond them, the horses slept in the shadow of the trees.

The warrior couldn't sleep. Her mind was still trying to make sense out of everything that had happened in the past few days. It was all so bewildering…the treachery of Hadrien, the abrupt change in her relationship with her slave, and then the revelation of Drea's malice...she couldn't seem to make sense of it all. _Was it all my fault? Should I have been able to read the signs? Did…did Epona get hurt because of me?_

Tara drew her sleeping furs up and shivered a bit. She missed Epona's soothing warmth, but she'd sent the girl to sleep on the other side of the fire. Tara simply couldn't bring herself to touch Epona again, or to let the small slave touch her – not after what Drea had been doing. How could she force the girl to share her bedroll after that? She closed her eyes tightly. _Not that I haven't before,_ Tara thought bitterly. _Medusa's hairy pits, I am such a hypocrite! What gives me the right to knock Drea around for forcing Epona? It's not like it's anything I haven't done myself._ Her mouth was flooded with the bitter taste of self-hatred.

Movement. The warrior's senses, ever on the alert, caught the sound of bare feet brushing against the ground. She could see a stealthy figure creeping up to where she lay. Tara's body stilled as she caught Epona's scent. It struck her suddenly that Epona might have many reasons to want her dead. _My raiding party destroyed her home and murdered her family. I took her prisoner – I've raped her, I've beaten her. I've treated her like dirt so many times. She might be trying to even the score now…_ Every nerve in Tara's body was alive and tingling, and her instincts screamed at her to move and meet this potential threat. The warrior, however, lay still, held by some force even greater than her need to protect herself.

The furs that covered Tara shifted. A moment later, she felt Epona's warmth against her body as the slave laid herself down on top of her. Instinctively, Tara's arms moved to clasp the slim form. Her hands found bare skin; Epona was naked to the waist, clad only in her short leggings. Tara felt small hands laid against her cheeks. Large eyes, almost black in the dim light, peered into hers. "Please, ma'am," came a soft, plaintive voice, "are you angry with me?"

Tara's chest and throat constricted. She felt her hands tighten convulsively on Epona's body. She had to swallow a few times before she could speak. "No," she said, her voice sounding strained in her own ears. "No, Epona, I'm not angry."

The slim hands stroked Tara's face. "Really?" Epona whispered. "Are you sure? You're not still mad at me for running away?"

"No," Tara said hoarsely. "I'm not."

"Okay." The slave's body slithered a bit higher. Tara froze as she felt the girl's soft, warm lips capture her own. Epona kissed her timidly and tenderly, still stroking her cheeks with her palms. "Don't you like touching me anymore?" the slave asked then. One of her small hands slipped down to rest on Tara's hip.

The warrior gave a strangled gasp. Electricity seemed to shoot out from where the little paw rested on her body. She had to pause to catch her breath. _Ye gods and goddesses! _"Yes," she managed finally. "Of…of course I do. But…" Tara's hands ached to stroke the soft skin beneath them. Her fingers moved in a subtle caress, instead.

Epona's lip quivered. She studied her owner's face for a while in silence. Tara's anguish grew; she couldn't hide it any longer. She saw the slave's eyes fill with tears in response, and felt a small hand stroke her forehead. "Are you hurt?" Epona whispered. "Were you wounded in that battle, ma'am? Show me. I've learned a lot about wounds. Maybe I can help it heal."

"No," Tara choked out. "No, I wasn't injured. Only a few scratches."

"No?" The little slave was crying, now. Big tears rolled down her cheeks and splashed onto the front of Tara's shift. "Then how come you sent me away?" she pleaded softly. "Why won't you let me be with you? I don't understand, ma'am. Why are you punishing me? Please tell me. Please." Tara couldn't speak. "Please," Epona sobbed out, burying her face in Tara's chest. "If I've done something wrong, tell me to bring your whip. I'll bring it. Just don't do this, ma'am. Please."

"It's not…like that." The warrior clung to her, tenderly stroking the dark head. "I'm not angry. It's just that…I…" The tearstained little face lifted again. The sight of the beautiful green eyes made Tara's breath catch. "I can't do this. Not…after what Drea did to you," she whispered. "I can't do that to you, little mouse."

A marvelous change came over Epona's face. Tears still flowed down her cheeks, but now her eyes were wide, and there was a wonderful light in them that made them shine like two stars. Both the little paws came up to stroke Tara's cheeks again as a relieved smile slowly spread over the slave's face. Tara thought dazedly that she'd never seen anything quite so lovely. "Really?" the girl breathed. "That's why?"

"Yes." Tara's voice was soft in defeat and depression. "I…I don't want to hurt you, _beag luch._ I just can't help it." Epona giggled, a tiny ripple of delighted laughter. The warrior scowled up at her. "It's not funny. You don't understand," she growled. "I can't…I can't have a weakness like this. It's dangerous! It's…I can't…"

Epona didn't speak. Instead, she lowered her head and pressed her lips against Tara's, stilling the flow of words. The warrior was flooded with sensation – she groaned against the slave's soft mouth. Her self-control broke, and she began to stroke her palms over the smooth curves of Epona's naked back. The slave gasped; her dark head dropped against the side of Tara's neck, and Tara heard her moan. It was intoxicating. Desire, white-hot and pulsing, flooded through the warrior's body. Slim fingers tugged at her clothes and drew them off with great gentleness. The warrior shuddered and moaned in pleasure as Epona slowly lowered herself back on top of her. The flood of passion that followed threatened to drown her. Tara stiffened and suddenly caught at Epona's shoulders, pushing her away. She was far too aware of the slave's body pressed against her, and of her own nakedness – her own aching vulnerability. "No," she choked. "No…I…I can't…"

The slave reached out and gently took Tara's face in her hands. The redhead's arms turned to jelly, to her sudden horror. Epona leaned down and kissed her quietly on the mouth, her warm little tongue tracing the outline of her owner's lips. "It's all right, ma'am," she said, gazing quietly into Tara's dark eyes. Her slender hands stroked gently through the warrior's fiery locks. "It's all right," she said again, and dropped another soft kiss on Tara's lips. "You don't have to be afraid."

Tara snarled. "I'm _not…!_"

A pair of dainty fingers fell against her lips, silencing her. Epona smiled, her face full of gentle affection. "It's okay," the slave said softly as she resumed her stroking of Tara's hair. "Don't be scared. Just relax, ma'am. You won't hurt me. I want this, and I'll take care of you."

The words were ridiculous, Tara knew. This slight girl, who could barely wield a pocketknife, take care of _her?_ But somehow it made sense, on some level that Tara couldn't really fathom. She felt Epona cuddle against her, and suddenly the warrior's inhibitions fell away. She clutched the small body against her own. With a low groan, Tara rolled on top of her and bent down to kiss the slave's rosebud mouth. It was like nothing she'd ever felt before. She kissed Epona again, and again, over and over, her lips trailing all over the small girl's face and neck and shoulders. The slave's sighs and groans were like music to her. Tara took a soft earlobe in between her lips and nipped it lightly. "You taste so good," she whispered.

"Mm." Epona's breath was coming in deep gasps. "Ngh…I…uhn…"

Tara silenced the broken words by pressing her own lips down on Epona's. Slender hands clutched at the warrior's shoulders. Gently, almost tenderly, Tara moved down the slave's body, dropping kisses down the center of Epona's breastbone. The little hands moved up to hold her face, and Tara felt the slave kissing and nuzzling the top of her head. The warrior grew very still, marveling at the feeling. She didn't think Epona had ever done much more than simply cling to her before…slender fingers slid down the nape of Tara's neck, and she shivered with pleasure.

"Let me." The slave's voice was soft and breathless. Tara looked up to find the green eyes gazing pleadingly into her own. "Please, ma'am. You saved my life, and you defended me against Drea...I want to do this for you. Let me do it."

The warrior looked at her in confusion for a moment. "All right." She paused. "What do I…"

"Just lie back." Epona pushed gently at Tara's shoulders. The redhead rolled obligingly onto her back and watched curiously as the slave cuddled up to her. Epona slid her hands over Tara's muscled abdomen and leaned up to press her mouth against her owner's neck.

In all of Tara's years, she'd never been passive in bed. It was an odd sensation, but not an unpleasant one. She watched as Epona settled herself in between her thighs. The warm mouth never left her throat as the slave's fingers slid slowly up her flanks. Tara gave a deep, shivering sigh; a moment later, the small hands were caressing her breasts. The warrior felt another moment's panic as pleasure washed over her. Then she surrendered to her slim little conqueror and let her brown eyes slide shut.

It was different than it had ever been. Every sensation stood out in stark, intense relief. It felt as if Tara had never done this before; she lay gasping and groaning under Epona's touch, almost helpless to respond. The sweet torture went on, and on, until finally – just as Tara thought she couldn't possibly bear it any longer – the pleasure and heat exploded through her. She gave a hoarse cry as her arms crushed Epona's body against her. Tara stayed there, rigid, as tremors passed over her; two long, shuddering gasps passed her lips. At last, her muscles turned to water. Panting, Tara fell back onto her bedroll. Her death grip on Epona loosened.

There was a long silence as Tara lay there, dazed, trying to recover. She could feel Epona gently stroking her sides and kissing her face. Tara slowly lifted her arms to clasp the girl's slim waist – she finally spared a glance for the woman sleeping a few yards away. Bernice hadn't stirred, and still seemed to be asleep. Tara looked up at the slave girl, who was smiling shyly down at her. "That was…good," she whispered, brushing her long fingers down the side of Epona's face. "So why'd you really do that?"

"Ma'am?" Epona's brow creased.

"Why'd you really do it?" Tara searched the girl's eyes closely. "Did you think you had to, just to keep my interest? That if you didn't, I might get bored with you and get rid of you?"

The slave bit her lip and looked away. There was a long silence. Then Epona looked back at her. "Ma'am, why did you save my life in that battle?"

The warrior stared at her. "Why?" she echoed. "I couldn't let you get hurt, little mouse. It's my job to take care of you."

Epona's brows lowered slightly. "So it was a responsibility thing?" she asked softly. "You just did it because you were supposed to."

"Well, yes. Partly." Tara's discomfort was growing. "And I couldn't just…well, stand by and let you get killed, right? You wouldn't even have been out there at all if it wasn't for me, so…" The slave's face fell visibly, and Tara stopped. "What?"

"Nothing." Epona sighed and laid her head down on Tara's chest, visibly disappointed. "I guess I just hoped that…" She sighed again. "Never mind, ma'am."

Frowning, the warrior grasped the girl's skinny shoulders and drew her back up to look at her again. "No," she said curtly. "I _do_ mind, Epona. What were you hoping I'd say?" The slave's lip quivered, and the moss-green eyes looked away. Tara gritted her teeth. "Look," she said, "I can't just…" She stopped. For a long moment, the warrior battled with herself. Then Epona sniffled, and Tara knew herself to be defeated yet again. She groaned and closed her eyes. "Okay. Okay." She brought up a callused hand to caress the slave's white cheek. "I saved you because I like you, all right?" Tara said awkwardly. "You're a good kid, and I like you, and I'd miss you if something happened to you. Okay? So stop crying."

Epona searched the warrior's face. The lines of trouble slowly smoothed from her small brow, and she finally gave a faint smile. "Okay," she said softly. She propped herself up on her forearms and bent down to kiss Tara's forehead. "Thank you for everything, ma'am. And…and for not punishing me for running away."

"You're welcome." Tara met her eyes sternly and tapped the slave's lips with a warning finger. "Just don't make a habit of it, all right? Just because I was inexplicably nice to you once doesn't mean I will be again."

The slave girl regarded her thoughtfully. Then a slow smile spread over her face. She lay down and snuggled herself against the warrior's muscular body with a contented sigh. "Y'know what?" Epona murmured. "I think you're hiding a really sweet woman somewhere in here." Her small hand patted Tara's belly.

"Wh…_what?"_ Tara sat bolt upright in outrage. "What did you say?"

There was some uncertainty in Epona's moss-green eyes, but she still gave a smile and pressed a warm kiss to Tara's shoulder. "I said," she said softly, "I don't think you're as big a meanie as you act sometimes."

Tara laughed in disbelief. "Those are pretty big words coming from someone I once nearly beat to death, Epona," she said. "You sure you didn't hit your head or something?"

"Would you still do that now?" The slave girl looked up at her quietly.

The warrior scowled and slowly lay back. She felt Epona cuddle against her. "I don't know," she muttered finally. "Maybe. I wouldn't want to, but I've got a bad temper, you know. If you made me mad enough, I could probably do a lot of things." She stroked the length of Epona's back, as if she were gentling a horse. "I'm a murderous bitch. I'm probably going to burn in Tartarus, or Abaddon, or wherever it is that evil people burn." Tara gave a rueful smile. "I'll probably spend a few decades burning for how I've treated you, little mouse."

There was silence for a while. Tara stared up at the stars, her thoughts many miles and many years away. "I wouldn't want that." The soft words brought her attention back to the present. Tara looked down to find Epona's moss-green eyes full of tears. "I wouldn't want it," the slave said again. "I'd rather you redeemed yourself instead of being punished."

Tara's eyes widened. "Redeemed myself?" she repeated. "You're joking, right?"

"No." Epona's gaze was clear. "You're strong and brave, and you're really good at a lot of things. I'll bet that if you made up your mind to help people and tried to do good things instead of what you're doing now, you could really make a difference. Maybe you could even make up for a lot of what you've done."

The warrior's face clouded and set like flint. "I'm a butcher, marked and claimed by the gods of war," she said coldly. "If I can manage to be nice to you and make your life less of a living hell, that's about all the good I'll ever be able to do in this life. I've killed more people than you've ever even _seen,_ squirt. I've burned people alive. I've gouged out eyes, hacked off limbs. I've burned down villages. I've spitted people on pikes like animals and left them to die. Places like Tartarus are made for people like me." She could feel Epona flinching, and see the pain twisting her expressive face. Tara sighed. Her long fingers threaded through the slave's silky hair. "Don't mistake your pretty stories for real life, little bard," she said softly. "I'm not a good woman. I never will be."

Epona's lips were quivering. "You're wrong," she said, her voice shaking. "I can tell you more good things you've done just this week." Tara raised a brow. "You saved Bernice's life," the slave said stoutly, "and you didn't kill Drea. And you didn't help when Drea took her soldiers in to kill those poor villagers."

"I saved Bernice's life for you, _beag luch,_ and I didn't go to punish the villagers because I was taking care of you." Tara's lips curved a bit, and she ruffled Epona's hair. "So two of your supposed redeeming moments were more about a little mouse than about me."

"Doesn't matter. You still did them." The little slave scowled.

Tara couldn't quite restrain a grin of amusement at the stubborn look on the girl's face. _Adorable._ "And why would you think my sparing Drea's life was a good thing, anyway? She hurt you. I should've ripped her ears off and made her eat 'em."

The small girl shuddered. "No," she said softly. Her small hand gripped Tara's side convulsively. "I…I hate her, and…I never want to see her again. But it was good that you didn't hurt her, ma'am. I think I've seen enough blood to last me for a long time…I don't need any more spilled for me." She snuggled her head into the crook of Tara's shoulder and gave a tremendous yawn. "It was still a good thing you did," she murmured.

"Enough of that redemption nonsense." Tara's voice was gentle; she kissed the top of the slave's curly head and tucked the sleeping furs securely around her small body. "You get some sleep, now. I don't want you getting sick because you haven't gotten enough rest, you hear me?"

"Okay."

Epona's slender arms wrapped themselves securely around Tara's powerful body. The warrior heard her give a deep sigh of contentment as she settled down. A tender smile curved the warrior's lips as she closed her own eyes. Tara would sleep very lightly, she knew, since she had to be alert for any possible danger, but it would still be good to rest. She tightened her arms around Epona's small form. "Good night, _beag luch,"_ she whispered. Soon the clearing was silent, and when the moon rose high over the small camp, she found only weary travelers wrapped in slumber.


	32. Chapter 32

Epona was wakened by a rough shake of her shoulders. She twitched away instinctively; the light hurt her eyes. "Up, Epona," came Tara's gruff voice. "We're running late. Move it." The slave was shaken again. Before she was even really awake, she found herself tumbling off the bedroll and climbing into her clothes.

The sun was well up – the sky was already blue. Epona looked around in confusion as she pulled on her gambeson, running her fingers absently over the patch that had been sewn over the gash on its front. Bernice was nearby, quietly serving out portions of porridge from a steaming cookpot. Their horses were grazing calmly off to one side. _Why are we starting out so late?_ Epona wondered, buckling the belt around her waist. _Tara usually wakes up before the sun._ She looked over at her owner.

Tara was putting on her armor with impatient jerks. Her sandy brows were drawn low over her brown eyes, and she seemed to be muttering to herself under her breath. There was irritation in every line of her. Epona's eyes widened. Had the woman simply slept in? That wasn't very like Tara.

…Then again, the woman had seemed somehow different since that ill-fated battle. Epona could remember clinging to the warrior as she was carried off the field, grateful just to be alive. Tara had been incredibly gentle later, as she had washed and tended the cut across Epona's belly. She'd been much more attentive, and less inclined to snarl. Even later, when Tara had caught Epona out in the wilderness, she'd been surprisingly calm. The slave had expected to be killed out of hand – Tara's mere exasperated concern had come as a shock.

And then there was last night, too. Epona chewed her lip as she remembered. When Tara had tersely ordered her to go and sleep by herself, the slave had been surprised and dismayed. Was Tara losing interest in her? Would she soon be relegated to mere miserable drudgery? Even if the woman was sour and aloof, Tara owned her – she'd spend the rest of her life with her, whether she wanted it or not. If the warrior lost interest in her, then…

The slave finally couldn't stand it any longer, and she had crept over to where her owner lay. She'd half expected the woman to angrily send her away again, but she hadn't – she'd been almost welcoming. And then, to hear Tara admit that she'd been trying to shield her from further harm, and actually confess to liking her? Well, it had been…confusing and gratifying and frightening, all at once.

Slowly, Epona moved over and slipped her arms around Tara's shoulders from behind. She felt the warrior's muscles tense. For a moment, she was afraid that Tara was going to strike her, as the powerful shoulders twitched. Then she felt the warrior draw a deep breath and slowly relax. Epona let out a sigh of relief and gently kissed Tara's cheek. "Are you all right, ma'am?" she asked softly. "You look kind of upset."

Tara growled. "Overslept," she muttered. "I never do that." She shrugged and pushed Epona away. "Go eat. We're leaving the minute we're packed up. I want to keep well ahead of anyone who might be following us."

"Okay. I'll get your breakfast, then." The little slave went to collect two of the bowls that Bernice had dished out. The servant smiled at her. Epona returned the smile and reached out to catch and squeeze her hand for a moment before turning back to take care of her owner's needs.

The warrior glanced up at Epona as the smaller girl laid one of the bowls of porridge in her lap. The slave quietly sat down at her feet and began to eat. After a moment's hesitation, Tara took her own breakfast. She seemed distracted, Epona noticed; her dark eyes kept sweeping the area. "How's the stomach?" she asked suddenly. The slave blinked at her. "You know," Tara said impatiently. "The cut. How's it feel?"

"Oh! Oh." Epona unconsciously slipped a hand down to touch her belly. "It's okay. It stings a bit sometimes, but it's all right, ma'am."

"You sure?" The redhead frowned at her. "C'mere. I want to take a look at it before I go scout around a bit." Epona obediently got up. Tara's large hands were gentle as they pulled open the front of her gambeson. She peered at the long row of stitches and ran a fingertip very lightly over it. "Looks good," she grunted. "It's closed well. Looks like it'll heal cleanly."

Epona rested her hand on top of Tara's larger one. The warrior's eyes lifted in surprise and question; the slave gave her a shy smile. "Yeah," she said softly. "Thanks to you."

For a moment, the small girl could have sworn that Tara's cheeks reddened. Then the warrior roughly tugged Epona's garment closed and turned away. "You already thanked me for that," she muttered. "No point going on about it again." She got up. "I'm going to make sure we don't have any unwanted company," Tara said, looking over at Bernice. "You and the squirt here pack everything up. I don't want to waste any more time." With that, the warrior strode off into the woods.

The slave sighed. Then, quietly, she gathered up the dishes and went to where Bernice was already packing up their bedrolls. "I'll wash the bowls and things in the creek," Epona murmured.

"All right, Pony." Bernice paused in her work to look gravely at the girl. "You went to her last night."

Epona nodded, not without a touch of embarrassment. "Yeah, I did."

Bernice looked at her closely. "Can I ask why, little one?" she asked gently. "Your feelings for Miss Tara must have changed. You once begged me not to leave because you thought she was going to kill you."

The girl chewed her lip, toying with the dishes in her hands. "I…I don't really know," she said. "I think maybe I was wrong about her, a little. I mean, she's…of course she's dangerous, and she's really scary when she's angry." Epona looked at the servant through her lashes. "But you didn't see her on that battlefield, Bernice," she said softly. "She…she defended me. She could've been killed, and she saved me anyway. I've never seen anyone fight like that before."

The servant nodded. Her brow was creased in thought. "Truthfully, I never would have expected her to save me, either," she said. "When she took over from Miss Drea, I thought I was in for it…perhaps I've misjudged her a bit, as well."

Epona blushed and smiled faintly. "I asked her to keep you safe," she admitted.

A slow smile moved over Bernice's weatherbeaten face. She drew Epona forward gently by the scruff of her neck and placed a kiss on the top of her head. "Then I thank you, little one," she said. "I'm greatly in your debt."

"No, you're not." Epona wrapped her arms around her and squeezed. "You were the only one who was ever really nice to me. I don't know what I would've done if you hadn't been there, Bernice."

The older woman returned the hug for a few moments before patting Epona on the back. "We'd best get our work done now, Pony. I think Miss Tara's in a sour mood, so we should be prompt." The slave nodded and resumed her interrupted task.

Tara came stalking out of the woods again just as Epona and Bernice were closing the last of the saddlebags. Without a word, the warrior began to load the waiting horses. Epona amused herself by trying to think up a name for their new gelding. He was a proud, handsome little beast, and he seemed to be getting along with Cerberus rather well. She considered his rich, brown coat and intelligent eyes. _I guess we could name him something that means he's small, but I can't really think of anything,_ she mused. _And we can't call him something stupid like Brownie. He's way too nice for that._

The warrior jerked one last strap tight and turned to her slave. "Up you get," she said gruffly, catching Epona playfully around the waist. The small girl uttered a squeak of alarm as she was tossed up into the warhorse's saddle; she clung to his back with both arms and legs, her heart in her throat. Then she cast a reproachful look at Tara, who was grinning at her mischievously from below. "What?" the warrior asked, raising a brow. Then she swung herself up behind her slave, without waiting for a response. "Mount up," she said to Bernice. "Let's get going." The older woman quietly mounted the gelding.

There was silence for a few minutes as Tara guided Cerberus to the road. Then she dropped her arm from Epona's waist to pat her thigh. "Well, have you thought of anything yet?" she asked.

Epona turned and peered up at her in confusion. "Ma'am?"

"The horse," Tara said impatiently. "The new horse. I saw you staring at him and wrinkling that little mousey nose of yours. You were thinking of names, weren't you?" The slave nodded uncertainly. "Well, then, let's hear it."

"I…haven't really come up with anything yet," Epona said softly. "I was thinking we could call him something that means he's small, since he's smaller than Cerberus."

"Nah. I can't have _two_ things around here named Epona, that'd just get too confusing." Epona looked up at Tara again, and found the warrior smirking at her. "Kidding," Tara said, tweaking the slave's nose. "Well, if you want a name that means he's small, you could call him Beagan, I suppose."

Epona's curiosity was piqued. "Is that a Gael name?"

"Yep."

"Oh." Epona settled back against the woman's body, feeling the hard plates of her armor through her gambeson. "Or maybe something about his being dark. You know, because he's that dark brown color."

Tara's eyes swept the road before them. "Could call him Bram," she said quietly. "That means 'raven.' It'd be kind of appropriate for a horse that belongs to me. Or Dow, if you want something that means he's dark-haired."

The slave was fascinated. "Wow, you really do know a lot about stuff like this," she said. "Are all of those Gael?" Tara nodded quietly. "That's really neat." Epona wriggled in delight. "Could you say some stuff in your language, ma'am? I've never really heard it, and I like how it sounds."

"You do, do you?" Tara glanced down at her calmly. "Well, maybe I will, sometime. But not right now." She slipped her hand up under Epona's shirt and patted her belly. "Have you decided what to call him yet?"

Epona considered a moment. "I think he looks like a Bram," she said firmly. "That should be his name." She heard Tara chuckle quietly, and felt the long fingers that rested against her skin move in a subtle caress. It made Epona feel oddly safe, despite the fact that this same hand had once beaten her senseless. She tried to make sense of the feeling for a few moments, and then gave it up with a sigh. She peered upward at Tara's face. "So where are we going now, ma'am?"

The brown eyes moved down to meet hers. "Abdera, for now," the woman said. "We'll stay at an inn there for a few days and figure out what to do next." Tara glanced briefly at the servant who was riding quietly beside them. "Depending on where I'm going, it might not be best for you to keep traveling with me, Bernice."

The little slave bit her lip at this. Bernice looked calmly up at Tara. "Perhaps not," she said gravely. "I'm an old woman, after all, and you already have Pony to take care of your needs, Miss Tara. I understand."

The warrior grunted. "But I promised the mouse here that I'd keep you safe," she said, "so I'm not just going to drop you in a strange city and leave." She paused. "You were with Hadrien for a long time. So you really need the money, right? You don't have any family you could stay with?"

"I have a son," Bernice responded. "He lives about a day's ride from Abdera. He and his wife have a farm out there." She sighed. "But I'd really rather not be a burden to my son and his family," she added.

"You won't be!" Epona blurted. "I won't let that happen."

"Oh, you won't, hey?" Tara's voice had dropped to its lowest register – it rumbled in Epona's ears. The slave looked up nervously to find her owner scowling down at her. But she thought she could see, in the depths of the brown eyes, a hint of amusement. "Going to sell off your cheese hoard to pay her keep, you little rodent?"

The slave hesitated, then swallowed and gathered her courage. "No," she said, timidly resting her small hands over the larger one that was pressed against her stomach. "I'm going to ask you to take care of her, ma'am."

Tara laughed. It was full of genuine amusement, without the hint of bitterness and gall that usually tinged the woman's laughter. She wriggled her fingers against Epona's belly, making the slave giggle and squirm helplessly. "You are trouble, little slave girl," Tara growled. Then, still chuckling, the warrior glanced back at Bernice. "We'll figure something out," she said gruffly. "I always keep my word, even if I've only given it to a saucy slave."

Bernice bowed her head. "Thank you, Miss Tara," she said. "I wish there was some way I could repay you for your kindness."

"Well, there isn't, so don't bother," Tara said loftily. "I'm going to ride ahead and make sure we aren't walking into an ambush. You stay out of trouble in the meantime." Bernice nodded silently. With a shake of the reins, Tara spurred Cerberus on ahead. Epona could feel the powerful muscles of the warhorse moving beneath her legs. "I don't know what's wrong with me," Epona heard the warrior mutter. "Taking care of old women, letting my slave sass me? I must be losing it." Tara's hand patted her belly. "Hey, little mouse?"

"I like it," Epona said shyly. She heard her owner chuckle in response. With a soft sigh, the slave leaned back again. She could feel the strength of the horse beneath her, and the strength of the woman behind her, and smiled at the sense of warmth and security that radiated from both. Epona relaxed, and let horse and rider carry her where they would.


	33. Chapter 33

The city was finally in sight. Tara's dark eyes rested on it dispassionately. It meant a period of comparative rest, which she was grateful for, but it also meant that she would soon have to make some decisions. Strangely enough, she wasn't really looking forward to making them.

First, she'd have to decide what, if anything, she was prepared to do about the Amazons. As a warrior, she didn't really begrudge them their attempt at revenge; Tara knew that she would have done the same thing. At the same time, though, she wasn't entirely comfortable with the idea of not retaliating. That would send entirely the wrong message. If word got out that the Terror of the West was running scared, it wouldn't be just the Amazons on her trail. Tara scowled and pursed her lips. But on the other hand, she had no desire to lead an army, let alone go to the trouble of collecting one – and she wasn't stupid enough to try to take on Amazons alone.

Then, too, there was the problem of Bernice. She hadn't expected to wind up taking care of the woman, and she didn't particularly want to keep her with her. But she _had_ promised Epona that she'd keep Bernice safe. _Blast it all, I should just drop her at her son's farm,_ Tara groused. _But then I'd have to part with some of my hard-earned coin to pay her keep, and I don't want to! And if we leave Bernice behind, Epona's probably going to cry._ The warrior winced. She hated it when Epona cried, especially if she was crying over something Tara had done.

_When did everything get so complicated?_ Tara sighed and rubbed her eyes. She looked down at the small girl in the saddle in front of her. Epona had leaned back against her and fallen asleep. She was still napping peacefully, her curly head supported between the warrior's chest and arm. Tara smiled a bit. _The worst part of this is, I know that you're the complication,_ she told the slave silently. _But I just can't bring myself to solve the problem by getting rid of you._ She moved her hand up to play with the black curls. _Huh. Never did get her hair trimmed,_ Tara mused idly. She pulled a strand of it straight and let go again, watching it spring back from her fingers. _Maybe I like it longer,_ she decided. _It looks kind of cute._

Hoofbeats. Tara's head abruptly came up as she scented the air like a wolf. Her sharp eyes flicked to the road behind them. She couldn't yet see who was there, but she could hear them. "Bernice." The woman looked up at her quizzically. "Someone's coming," Tara said shortly. "Take Epona. If there's trouble, you ride into the city, you hear me? I'll take care of it." The warrior picked Epona bodily off the saddle and handed her over to the servant. The groggy slave uttered a little cry of surprise and alarm, throwing her arms around Bernice's neck. Without another word, Tara drew her sword and turned Cerberus back to face their pursuer.

Within a minute, a soldier rode out from the woods. He seemed familiar. As he approached, Tara suddenly recognized him. She deliberately pulled Cerberus around so that her naked sword faced the man. "Leander."

The soldier reined in his mount about ten yards from where she was. "Tara." He drew his blade. Tara gritted her teeth and prepared for battle, but before she could act, the man had dismounted and touched his weapon to his forehead in salute. "I come in peace," he said briskly. "I offer you my sword. Will you take it?" And, stepping closer, Leander extended the hilt of his blade toward her.

Tara blinked. "What?"

Leander saluted again. "I've made my choice, General," he said. "I'd rather follow the better warrior. I've come to give you a warning, and offer you my sword."

_General?_ The redhead looked down at him grimly. "I'm not gathering an army, Leander," she said. "Besides, weren't you serving under Drea for years? That doesn't say much for your loyalty."

He smiled faintly. "Drea did all right," he said, "but she led us straight into a trap. It's not like the rest of us didn't know that you wanted to do a little more recon before we went in. As it was, it was your Bel's fire and your fighting skills that saved us. Every last one of us would have died there if it wasn't for you." He offered his weapon again. "I follow whoever's the strongest, and that's you, General. Whether you're commanding an army or not – please, accept my sword and my service."

Exasperated, Tara glanced over at Bernice. Epona caught her eye and grinned at her proudly; Tara sighed, rubbed her forehead, and reached out to tap Leander's sword hilt with her fingertips. "Fine. I accept," she growled. "But remember, you asked for it." He smiled, bobbed his head, and sheathed the weapon. "Now, what's the warning? You said you had one for me."

The man stood at attention. "Yes, General. Drea told us that you'd defected, and that you had to die for it," he said. "That's when we left her," he added, his eyes twinkling slightly.

Tara sheathed her sword. "Didn't want to get killed, hey?" she asked mildly. "Guess you lot are smarter than you look."

"That's about the size of it." Leander looked up at her quietly. "Drea's coming after you, General. She was leaving immediately, so I'd say she's not much more than a couple of hours behind me."

_Damn it._ Tara scowled and chewed her lip thoughtfully, her dark eyes scanning the woods behind him. "I don't like to run from a fight," she muttered, "but I don't want to kill the damn woman. She was my friend. I don't make a hell of a lot of those." She shut her mouth tightly. _Drea's not stupid enough to try to take me on directly. She'll follow me and make trouble some other way. Damn it! I should have just slit her throat when I had the chance._ Tara pinched the bridge of her nose; she could feel a raging headache coming on. "Okay," she said finally. "I was heading into Abdera to find an inn. We'll do that, and figure out what to do about Drea later. We've got time. I doubt she'll try anything right away."

"Yes, General." Leander saluted and turned to go back to his horse.

"Leander!" Tara's voice rang out sharply. He looked at her in surprise and question. "Quit calling me General," she growled. "Tara's fine." The young man nodded and saluted again before swinging astride his mount. With one last look of disgust, Tara turned Cerberus toward the city. "Let's go," she muttered, glancing in Bernice's direction. She heard the hoofbeats of the two horses as they trailed in her wake.

_Blast it. I never planned for this._ Tara scowled to herself as she rode. _I should have expected it, too. Didn't Drea promise me she'd make me regret throwing her over? Should've expected something._ She pursed her lips. _If I'm dead set on not killing her, maybe I'll have to leave the country. I don't know if Drea will follow me if I head out, but she sure as hell will if I'm still somewhere in Argonia._

It was strange to think of leaving. Although Tara had never really thought of Argonia as home, she'd been in the country for well over a decade, and she'd grown comfortable with her life here. She examined the city gates idly as she passed through them. _I wonder where I'd even go? I suppose Romus is a possibility. But there's too much military power there…harder to raid. Maybe Gaul…? But they don't have much worth taking._ She looked up suddenly – they had reached the inn.

It took a bit of wrangling to have the three horses put up. Tara took two rooms, since the four of them wouldn't have fit in only one. About an hour later, they were all in Tara's room, ranged in a rough circle. She leaned back against the wall, surveying the scene ruefully. Leander was sitting cross-legged on the floor, listening to something that Epona was telling him. The slave girl sat between him and Bernice; her green eyes were bright as she illustrated her words with the movements of her hands. Bernice was perched calmly on a footstool with her hands folded in her lap. _Just how the hell did I wind up with a bloody entourage?_ She cleared her throat. Conversation ceased, and three pairs of eyes looked at her expectantly.

Why had she signed up for this, again? Tara folded her arms across her chest. "So," she said, "we've got to figure out what we're going to do about Drea, and where we're going next." There was silence. "I don't want to kill her." Tara glanced at Epona. "The gods know she deserves it, and I really should give it to her, but I don't want to."

Leander cocked his head. "May I ask why?" he said. "Not that I have much thirst for her blood myself, Gener…Tara, but you never struck me as a very merciful woman."

She glared at him. "My reasons are my own," she snapped. "Do you want to question me?" Leander shook his head. "Then leave it be." Tara thumped her fist on the bed for emphasis. "In any case, I don't want Drea dead. But if she comes after me, I won't have any choice but to kill her. She'll probably hunt us down as long as we're in Argonia. So…" The redhead glanced at Epona, who was watching her curiously. "I think it would be best if I left."

"Left Argonia?" Bernice's brow furrowed. "Where would you go, Miss Tara?"

"I'm not sure yet," Tara said quietly. "Maybe to Gaul, I don't know. It's probably time I left, anyway – the country's getting a little too hot to hold me. Too many damn bards with big mouths." She reached down and tweaked Epona's nose. The slave wrinkled it and looked up at her innocently. Tara grinned, and then turned back to the matter at hand. "That means, of course, that I won't be taking you with me, Bernice," she said. "I doubt you'd want to leave the country anyway."

The servant bowed her head. "I would come if you wished it, Miss Tara, but I'd prefer to stay nearer to my son," she said.

"Of course you would – so I'll see that you get there," Tara said decisively. She looked at Leander. "I'm glad you're here. It solves a problem for me. I promised Epona here that I'd take care of Bernice, but it's sort of hard for me to do that if I'm out of the country. How about if I leave you with Bernice? You could make sure that she's taken care of."

He looked uncertainly at the older woman. "Well, I suppose I could, if you ordered it, Tara."

"I order it." Tara turned her piercing gaze to Bernice. "I'll leave some gold with you, just to make sure you aren't a burden on your son. And I'm sure Leander can help out with things – you can come up with some way to make him useful." The servant gave an uncertain smile. "So, that's settled." Tara glanced from Bernice to Leander. "Now, how about you two go downstairs and keep an eye out for Drea. I'd like to have a bit of warning if she should decide to be stupid and come up here."

Epona peered up at her owner as the door closed behind them. Tara leaned back against the wall and crooked her finger at her. Shyly, the slave got up on the bed and crawled into her lap. Tara tugged her into her arms. "Now, mouse-girl – where do you want to go?" she murmured. "I'll be dragging you along with me anyway, so you might as well have a say in it."

"Oo." Epona wriggled a bit with excitement. "I want to see Gaelis!"

_"Gaelis?"_ Tara's eyes widened. "Gods, girl. Why would you want to go there?"

"Because I've never seen it, and I've never even really heard stories about it." Epona played with one of the straps of Tara's armor. "And since you came from there, I bet it has to be really pretty."

The warrior scowled as she felt her cheeks redden. "Flattery doesn't work on me, you runty little squirt," she said.

Epona gave a soft giggle and cuddled against her. "Please?"

_Well…why not?_ Tara gave a mental shrug. _After all, Gaelis is as good as anywhere else. It might be nice to see the old place again._ "Oh, all right," she muttered, roughly tousling Epona's curls. "And we'll cut across, so you can see some of Romus, too."

"Oo!" The slave's eyes lit up. "Really? My mother came from there. She told me lots of stories about it. Is it true that all the roads there are paved?"

"A lot of them are. They're in power for a reason." Tara found herself smiling at Epona's obvious excitement. "All right, all right. Don't get too worked up, you'll give yourself a stomach ache." The slave hugged her happily. "Oh, knock it off, you." The warrior pushed the smaller girl away. "Come on, let's go downstairs and get some supper. I could use some." And she headed out of the room, with the slave trotting willingly at her heels.


	34. Chapter 34

Tara sat with her back to the wall and her legs propped up on a chair. There was a plate of roast meat and vegetables on the table next to her elbow, and a mug of sherry. With her right hand, she munched her supper and refreshed herself with the alcohol; with her left, she cradled the little slave who sat beside her. Leander and Bernice were eating across from them.

The warrior had chosen this spot carefully. It was close to the corner; with her back to the wall, she could survey everyone in the inn's common room. She hadn't spotted Drea so far, but Tara wasn't taking any chances. She loosened her dagger in its sheath. _If she dares to go after us, I won't show her pity this time,_ Tara thought grimly. _I just hope she's not stupid enough to try it._

"…Was really cold, and raining," Epona was saying. She was gesturing enthusiastically as she spoke, which Tara had learned meant that she was telling a story. The warrior listened curiously. "Matty was very sick, and so Raven spent the night with her. She wrapped herself up with her in an old shirt."

_Wait – that's my story. That's me and Maggie!_ Tara started listening more intently. It _was_ her story, but different. Epona had somehow woven a thread of magic through the tale. At the end of it, instead of dying, "Matty" recovered from her illness and was adopted by loving parents. Tara's throat felt unaccountably tight. She scowled and glanced around to find that a small crowd had gathered around the table to listen to the story. When it was done, there was scattered applause, and several people plied Epona for another one.

Before the little slave could respond, one of the tavern wenches pushed her way through the crowd. "Who're you?" she asked Epona bluntly.

Tara leaned forward. "Her name is Epona," she said evenly, "and she's my slave. Is there a problem?"

The girl looked at her uncertainly. She was a dark-skinned, brown-eyed Argonian, perhaps a bit older than Epona. "N-no," she said slowly. "Innkeeper just sent me to say she can use the stage, if she likes. Bards get to keep whatever folks give 'em at the end, so long as they bring in the business."

Epona's eyes widened and began to shine like stars. Tara groaned inwardly and glanced around. She could see no sign of Drea. Her instincts told her not to take a risk like this, but…she looked at Epona again, and found the little slave peering up at her with pleading, hopeful eyes. _And I fold like a house of cheap cards,_ Tara thought disgustedly. She sighed and gave one of Epona's curls a gentle tug. "All right, _beag luch,"_ she said quietly. "If you want to get up and tell your little stories, I won't stop you."

The slave flung her arms around Tara's neck and kissed her cheek. "Oh, ma'am, thank you!" she squealed excitedly.

"All right, all right." Tara flinched and pushed her away hurriedly. "Let's just go and get this over with, okay?" She looked at Leander. "Keep an eye on Bernice for me," she said shortly, and rose to her feet.

The "stage" was just a small platform at one end of the common room, perhaps a foot off the floor. Tara positioned herself behind it with her back to the wall and stood silently, her arms folded, watching the crowd. Epona climbed up onto the platform and stood facing them. Now that she was up there, she looked nervous. Tara could see her small hands fidgeting. "I tell a tale of a warrior," the little slave faltered. "A mighty fighter who conquered many enemies…"

As the girl spoke, her voice grew clearer, and her back straightened. Tara glanced at her with a hint of pride. _That's my girl. You show them how to tell a story,_ she thought. Her lips twitched a bit as she turned her attention back to the attentive listeners. She could see Leander and Bernice listening in the background. Tara kept a watchful eye out. _If you put in an appearance, Drea, I'll be ready for you._

"…And finally, the enemy turned and ran, driven away by her mighty feats of arms." Epona's voice broke into Tara's thoughts. She turned her attention abruptly to what the slave was saying. "Thanks to Raven's brilliant strategy, the village and the army were saved," Epona said softly. "She took her slave and rode off back to Gaelis, where they lived happily ever after. And all the people of Argonia called her a hero, and told stories about her to their children, and their children's children."

Tara's eyes flew wide open. _That minx is telling stories about me again. The little chit!_ She shot a murderous look at the slave's back, but Epona was cheerfully unaware of her ire. Glowering, Tara looked back at the crowd again.

_Wait!_ Tara blinked, her gaze suddenly sharpening and flicking from person to person. She thought she'd seen, just for a moment, a flash of a dark-skinned, sharp-eyed face. _Drea._ The warrior laid her hand on her knife hilt as she avidly searched the crowd. She concentrated her attention on the area around Bernice and Leander, her fingers twitching on her weapon. _Come on, come on…!_

Epona began another story. Tara wasn't listening. She searched the crowd like a hawk, to no avail – she caught no further glimpses of her former friend's face. Tara ground her teeth in frustration. Then she heard the little slave finishing her second tale. With a few quick strides, the warrior placed herself between Epona and the crowd and reached up to grasp the slave's hand. "That's enough for now," she said curtly. "Come on, Epona. Back to our room."

"O-okay." The girl looked startled. Tara saw a flash of disappointment in her moss-green eyes. All the same, Epona flashed a brave smile at the crowd. "I guess it's time for bed," she said softly. "Thank you all for listening."

A number of people pressed coins into the slave girl's hands as she stepped down off the stage. Tara grasped her gently but firmly around the upper arm and steered her toward the short hall that held their rooms. She caught Leander's eye as they passed and jerked her head; he rose and gestured for Bernice to follow.

Not until Tara had searched her room carefully and shut the door behind them did she relax a little. "I saw her," she said shortly, glancing at her companions. "I saw Drea."

"Did you?" Epona's eyes grew wide and anxious.

"Yeah, I did." Tara turned her gaze on Leander. "I think maybe Bernice and Epona should stay in here with me. You can probably defend yourself if Drea should come after you, right?"

"Of course, General. I mean, Tara." He saluted smartly. "Would you like me to stand guard at your door?"

The redhead glared at him. "Do I look like I need protecting, soldier? Scram."

Leander saluted again. He shot Epona and Bernice a grin and a wink. "Good night, little ladies. Sleep well." He paused in the doorway. "I'll keep one eye open, Tara. Just call if you need me." With one final salute, Leander left.

Tara coolly took the single chair in the room and wedged it under the doorknob. "You two take the bed," she said shortly. "I'll sleep over here. If Drea tries the door or the window, I don't want her encountering either of you first."

Tentatively, Epona moved forward and laid her hand on Tara's arm. The warrior looked down as she felt something hard being pressed into her palm – the coins that the crowd had given the slave after she'd told her stories. Tara met the girl's gaze. "They're yours, I guess," Epona said softly, "since you own me. Right?"

The Gael closed her hand on the money and stared at the girl in bemusement for a moment. Then she slowly opened her fingers again. "Take them," she said. Epona hesitated, and Tara held the coins up. "Take them," she insisted. "You earned them, so they're yours. Get whatever you like with them." With a slow, shy smile, the little slave took them back. "Now, go lie down, the both of you," Tara ordered. "We're starting out early tomorrow. If Drea wants to track us, we'll make her work for it."

Epona bit her lips and peered at Tara through her lashes. "I really have to sleep over there?" she murmured. "I can't stay with you?"

"Not tonight," Tara said. "I don't want you in harm's way if Drea tries anything. You and Bernice go and sleep over there, where it's safe." She saw disappointment in the slave's face. Tara sighed and, putting a long arm around Epona's skinny shoulders, drew her into an embrace. "It's just for tonight," she murmured. "I'm not getting rid of you, all right? So just go to bed and go to sleep like a good girl, and let me keep you safe."

The little slave leaned into her. "Okay," she whispered. "I'll be good." Then she held up her face to be kissed. Tara complied, touching her lips gently against Epona's soft mouth. "Good night, ma'am." And the smaller girl turned away to get ready for bed.

Tara moved around the room, making sure that it was secure. She checked the latch on the shutters of the window. Even if they were on the second floor, she wasn't taking any chances. Silently, she dug a sleeping mat out of their saddlebags and spread it on the floor near to the door. Then she glanced at her companions. Bernice was already lying down, her eyes closed. As Tara watched, Epona slipped her legs under the covers and lay down, resting her curly head on the pillow. Her large eyes met Tara's mournfully.

The warrior sighed. She moved over to the side of the bed and, stooping down, kissed the slave's forehead. "Good night, _beag luch,"_ she said quietly. "Get some rest. Don't worry about anything – I'll keep watch. You don't have to be afraid."

"I'm not scared." Epona threw her arms around Tara's neck and gave her a resounding kiss. "Good night, ma'am."

Tara couldn't quite restrain a smile. She gazed down at the slave, thinking of how she had stood so bravely on that stage to tell her stories. Tara felt another glow of pride. _She did well,_ she thought. The warrior mussed Epona's dark hair affectionately and pulled herself loose from the hug. "Sleep," she said gruffly. The little slave snuggled down under the blanket obediently and closed her eyes.

With a sigh, the warrior lay down on her sleeping mat and loosened her sword in its sheath. She wasn't going to get much sleep, and she already missed her little bedwarmer. Tara sighed again and settled in to watch for the night.


	35. Chapter 35

They were up and packed at the crack of dawn. Tara escorted her party out to the inn's stables with her sword drawn and her senses sharp. There had been no hints of attack during the night, but she wasn't taking any chances. Beside her, she could see Leander's hand resting on his sword hilt; he seemed watchful, as well. Tara eyed him. She wasn't completely sure of his motives and loyalties. _Sure, he says he wants to join and serve me, but how do I know Drea didn't send him? The sooner I ditch him, the better I'll feel. At least he's not likely to hurt Bernice if his beef's with me._

It took about twenty minutes to harness and load up the horses. Tara swung herself up into her horse's saddle and reached down for Epona's hand. The slave settled back against her owner with a quiet sigh; Tara looped a protective arm around the girl's slender waist and grasped the reins. "All right," she said shortly, "let's go. Leander, you ride ahead. I'll keep back and see if we're being followed." The soldier nodded and spurred his mount forward, his hand still perched on the hilt of his weapon. Tara directed Cerberus in behind Bernice. The redhead's ears were perked up, listening for any sounds of pursuit.

The four of them rode out of Abdera in silence. When they had reached the road, Tara spurred Cerberus forward to walk beside Bram. Her brown eyes caught Bernice's. "So where exactly does your son live?" she asked. "Do you know how to get there from here?"

"Yes, Miss Tara." Bernice pointed north. "We follow this road for a few hours, and then there's a fork that leads east. If we move quickly enough, we could be at my son's farm by supper time."

"What's his name?" Epona asked curiously. "What's he like, Bernice?"

Tara glanced down at the slave with a touch of exasperation. _Now is hardly the time to be making pleasantries._ Then she rolled her eyes and let it go. _Oh, whatever. Let the kid chatter a bit._

Bernice smiled. "His name is Timon," she said. "He's a good boy. He took over the farm when his father died – he's a good, hard worker. His wife's name is Desma. I think you'd like her, little one. She has a lovely singing voice, although not quite so nice as yours." Epona smiled at this. "They have a little son, Galen. He's about two years old by now…he was named after his grandfather."

"Oo, a baby!" Epona's eyes lit up, and she clapped her hands in delight. "I just love babies." She twisted around to peer up at Tara, who was still dourly scanning their surroundings. "Ma'am, can we stay there a little? Maybe play with Galen?"

"No," Tara said curtly. "We're being tailed by a woman who wants to kill me. If you really want to keep Bernice and her family safe, you and I need to stay away from them."

"Oh." The little slave's face fell. "Okay. I guess you're right, ma'am."

"Of course I'm right." Tara glanced down at her crestfallen expression, and relented enough to pat the girl's belly. "I'm not just saying no to be a bitch, little mouse. Once we're out of this mess, you can play with all the babies you want, all right? It's just not going to work right now."

The smaller girl leaned back and rested her head against Tara's breastplate. "Okay," she said softly. Her voice was full of the simple trust that Tara had seen in her eyes on that battlefield not so long ago.

The warrior swallowed against the sudden tightness of her throat, and scowled. _Damn it! What is this little runt doing to me? She's your slave, Tara. You're in control, not her. Get it together._ She abruptly reined in Cerberus, pulling him back to the end of the line. "Just keep quiet," she growled. "If anyone's coming, I want to hear them." Epona nodded and fell silent.

They rode hard all that day. Tara didn't even let them dismount to eat; they ate their rations on horseback. She and Leander suffered little from this, but she could see Bernice grimacing as the afternoon wore on. Epona squirmed a bit just then. Looking down, Tara saw that the small girl was pale, and that her rosebud mouth was set in a thin line. With a sigh, the warrior patted the girl's belly. "Uncomfortable, little mouse?" she murmured.

Epona wriggled. "I guess I'm just not used to riding for so long," she whispered. "My legs hurt…and…"

"And your back?" Tara tugged the girl closer. "I know. We won't be riding like this the whole time, Epona. It's just until we're well away from Bernice's son's farm again. I don't want to give Drea the chance to cause trouble for them." She narrowed her eyes grimly. "I want her to try to cause it for _me,_ if anyone. And then, if I can lose her, I hopefully won't have to worry about it anymore."

The slave girl grimaced. "It hurts," she said. "Do you think we're almost there, ma'am?"

"Another couple of hours, from what Bernice said," the warrior said quietly. "But then you and I are going to keep going, little mouse. We're not stopping until at least midnight. I want to be sure that Drea follows us, rather than bothering Bernice's family. Even if Leander does protect them, he'll be in trouble if Drea's got people with her."

Green eyes widened and stared up at her. "Do…do you think she does?" Epona whispered.

"She might," Tara said grimly. "That's how Drea operates. She's smart. If she can't do something herself, she surrounds herself with people who can." Her eyes narrowed. "And she'll know she can't take me on by herself."

Epona shivered and huddled farther into the crook of Tara's arm. "This is kind of my fault, isn't it?" she whispered. "It's my fault we're in all this danger." The warrior felt her slender body quiver with fear.

"No, it's not," the redhead growled. "The bitch wanted me, she couldn't have me, and so she lashed out at my slave. That didn't have anything to do with _you,_ mouse-girl. The fight's between Drea and I." She rubbed the bridge of her nose. "And she's pissed because she figured she could use me to build up her own army and reputation, and I didn't go along with that, either." Tara's lips curved slightly. "Guess she must've missed the fact that I don't play well with others."

The little slave's shivering didn't diminish. Tara felt the small hands wrap tightly around her arm. For a while, neither of them spoke. Finally, the grip on the warrior's arm loosened a little. "I'm sorry," Epona whispered. "I…I know you're really strong, and you can take care of things. I just…" Her voice broke. "I can't help…remembering."

Tara's sandy brows drew low over her eyes. "She won't touch you again," she said coldly. "I've dealt with worse than Drea, _beag luch._ You understand?" The little slave nodded miserably, and the warrior gave her a light shake. "Hey. You calling me a liar? I mean it. She'll only get to you over my cold, dead body, and she isn't nearly enough woman to manage that. I'll protect you. So knock it off."

"Okay." Epona shut her eyes tightly and leaned her full weight back against the warrior's powerful body. "I'm sorry, ma'am. I think I'm just tired and sore and cranky."

"Fine. Keep quiet, then." Tara shut her mouth with a snap as she felt the slave flinch. _Ugh. Come on, Tara. You don't have to rip the poor kid's head off, you hardened old bitch._ "It's probably better if we don't talk," she explained, softening her tone with an effort. "We're both on edge at the moment." Epona nodded silently. Tara caught the glimmer of tears slipping down the girl's pale cheeks, and looked away with a scowl. _Bloody Tartarus. Damn kid's more trouble than she's worth, I swear._ They rode on in silence.

It was early evening by the time they reached Bernice's son's farm. Tara remained stolidly on her horse, and didn't relinquish her grip on the little slave's waist. She watched stonily as a young man came out to greet them. Bernice flung her arms around him and kissed him, and they laughed, their voices overlapping excitedly. Tara looked over at Leander. "Well, go ahead and tell them what the deal is," she said tersely. "I'm going. Don't want to lead Drea here."

"Yes, General," he said, his voice grave. "You're sure you don't want another sword with you? Another pair of eyes to watch at night might come in handy."

"No. I want someone here making sure Bernice is safe." Tara shook her head firmly. "I made a promise, Leander. So you stay put until I take care of the problem and come tell you that you can go, you got it?" She fixed him with a level glare. "And quit calling me General!"

He inclined his head. "Yes, ma'am." He briskly dismounted and bowed to Bernice's son, who was turning to him inquiringly. "Good evening, sir. I am Leander. I'm here to represent General Tara's interests here, and protect your mother."

"Good…evening, Leander. Timon." The young man awkwardly shook the soldier's hand, then looked up at Tara with a cautious, puzzled expression on his face. "Er…General Tara, I presume?"

"Yes, Timon. This is Miss Tara," Bernice said softly, laying her hand on her son's shoulder. "When Master Hadrien was killed, some of his fellow soldiers wanted to cause me some trouble, but Miss Tara protected me. And this is Epona, her slave."

Tara coolly noted the young man's eyes, which were much like his mother's, and the set of his broad shoulders. He looked strong. She coldly inclined her head. She saw his gaze slip down to Epona's, and a smile creased his face. "If you protected my mother, then you are welcome here, General Tara," he said, although the gaze he returned to her was still slightly uncertain. "Won't you come in and eat with us?"

The little slave in Tara's arms took a sharp breath. The warrior's resolve suddenly wavered. She could still feel the dull ache of guilt in her gut from having made Epona cry earlier. Tara gritted her teeth as she waged a brief internal battle – and again, to her great disgust, she lost. _Okay. Okay, fine, I'll compromise._ "No. We can't stay that long," she said gruffly. "It's too dangerous." She looked down at Epona. "But you can go in while I get Bram and Cerberus taken care of, little mouse. Go…poke the baby, or whatever it is that you wanted to do."

"Really?" The slave's eyes lit up. Tara suddenly found herself the recipient of an enthusiastic hug and kiss on the cheek. "Thank you, ma'am! Thank you!"

"Oh, stop it, already." The warrior grasped Epona firmly by the arms and lifted her down before swinging to the ground herself. "You better go be social or whatever. The moment I've got the horses ready to go, we're leaving."

"Yes, ma'am," Epona said happily, and trotted over to where Bernice and Timon stood. Soon they headed into the nearby house.

Tara scowled and began to loosen her warhorse's saddle. "No rest yet, boy," she muttered. "Just a quick rubdown and some water, and maybe a snack." She worked quickly and efficiently, brushing him down and removing the worst of the dust from his coat. Then she led him to a nearby trough to drink. Bram snorted and tossed his head as Tara removed his saddle. She slapped him affectionately on the rump and began to rub him down as well.

"Are you sure you're not underestimating Drea, General?" Tara looked up to find Leander standing there, his horse's reins held loosely in his hand. She glowered at him, but found nothing but concern in his gray eyes. "I know you're a formidable woman, and you can certainly handle her on the battlefield. But she's capable of a lot, and she's very angry…do you really want to face her alone?"

The woman turned her attention back to Bram's dark hide, and continued her work with rhythmic strokes of the brush. "I've pretty much faced everything in my life up until now alone," she said. "And she's hardly the worst thing I've faced."

"Well, no," Leander admitted. "But –"

"Do you always question your commanding officers like this, Leander?" Tara fixed him with a withering stare. "If you do, I'm rather surprised that you've survived until now. I wouldn't have thought Drea would put up with that, and I'm pretty sure that Vasilus wouldn't have."

He gave her a rueful smile and bowed his head. "Your will, General." Without another word, he turned and led his horse toward the barn. Tara frowned and shook her head before returning to her task.

It didn't take long to feed and water the two horses. The warrior replaced their saddles and checked the saddlebags to ensure that all of their gear was ready. Then she turned toward the small farmhouse and strode to the front door. She could hear the muffled sounds of voices and laughter coming from inside. After a moment's hesitation, Tara opened the door without knocking.

A charming sight met her eyes. The farmhouse was small, made up of a large main room and a smaller one off to one side. There was a fireplace built into the far wall, with cheerful flames dancing on the hearth. Bernice was sitting in a sturdy armchair before the fire, a thick woolen shawl spread across her knees. Her son stood by her side, smiling. Epona was down on her knees with another young woman, a dark-haired girl that Tara guessed must be Timon's wife. A chubby baby was lying on the floor between the two girls; he was kicking his fat legs and giggling as Epona tickled him. The scene was homey, and sweet, and Tara suddenly felt a lump in her throat. _Gods…when was the last time I ever saw something like this?_

Then Epona's eyes lifted to meet hers. The laughter in her face died, and her green eyes lowered again. Slowly, the slave patted the baby and rose to her feet. "Is it time to go already, ma'am?" she asked softly.

"Yes." Tara turned away so she wouldn't have to see the disappointment in the girl's face. "Say your goodbyes, Epona. We're going."

"Okay." The small girl went to where Bernice was sitting and threw her arms around the woman's neck. There were tears; Tara stood silently in the doorway, her eyes fixed on the horses waiting outside. She heard rather than saw Epona finally move close to her. "Where's Leander, ma'am?" came her soft voice.

"In the barn, putting up his horse." Tara turned away. "Say goodbye to him if you like, but hurry it up. We've got a lot of distance to cover before we can rest." She stalked to where Cerberus waited and swung herself into his saddle. Her eyes moodily followed Epona as the girl headed toward the barn. Leander came out before the little slave reached it; Tara watched as Epona hugged him. A few words were exchanged. Finally, Epona returned to her owner. Tara jerked her chin in Bram's direction. "Mount up, and let's go."

The small girl looked dismayed for a moment. Then, without a word, she did as she was told. Tara leveled her gaze at Leander, who was still standing there watching them. She lifted a hand in a gesture that could have been interpreted either as a salute or a farewell; then she dug her heels into her horse's sides. The mighty beast snorted and started forward. She could hear the muted hoofbeats of Bram behind her as Epona urged him to follow.

They rode without speaking, in single file, with Bram plodding along behind the much larger Cerberus. Even as Tara kept a watchful eye out for pursuers and ambushes, her mind was working. _Why am I feeling so guilty just for doing what needs to be done?_ She scowled out at the dark road ahead. _It's not as if I ought to have risked everyone's safety just to let the squirt play with a baby, right? And it's not as if I can sit around waiting for Drea to attack me just because Epona's sore from riding. So why do I feel as if I've done something wrong?_ The warrior rubbed her forehead. _Damn it all. For the hundredth time, what's that kid doing to me?_

After about an hour of this, Tara gave a sudden, exasperated grunt. She reined in Cerberus and pulled him to one side to allow Epona's mount to ride up beside him. The little slave looked at her questioningly; Tara could see the lines of pain and weariness in the girl's pale face. It looked almost haunting in the moonlight, like a ghost's. "You know I don't just do things to torture you, right?" the warrior said gruffly. "I have reasons for everything I'm doing."

Surprised, Epona nodded. "I know, ma'am," she said. "You're protecting me."

Tara scowled back at the road. "I'm not forcing you to ride just to be a harpy," she muttered. "I didn't make you leave Timon's farm to upset you…I didn't tell you to be quiet just to make you cry."

"I know that, ma'am." Epona's expression was grave. "I'm sorry if I made you feel bad."

"Don't apologize," Tara snapped. "You've got nothing to apologize for." The little slave fell silent, and the warrior cursed herself inwardly. She tried again. "Look," Tara said quietly, "I'm just saying that you don't need to think that I'm doing any of this to hurt you. I have reasons for everything. And sometimes I'm just a bitch – it's got nothing to do with you or anyone else. All right?"

"Okay." Epona nodded meekly and bowed her head.

"All right, then." The redhead gave a brisk nod and spurred Cerberus ahead again.

At last, as the moon rose high overhead, Tara decided it was time to rest. She reined in her mount. "We'll stop here," she said curtly. "Let's get the horses set up and turn in. It's been a long day." She heard Epona give a soft groan of relief. Tara dismounted gracefully and moved to Bram's side as the slave got down. She was just in time to catch Epona as the little slave's knees buckled; the girl gave a soft cry of pain, clutching at Tara's arms. "Whoa! Easy, there. Are you okay?"

"It hurts," the slave groaned. Tara felt her try to stand again, and fall back with another pained whimper.

"Here, relax. Sit down a minute." The warrior eased the smaller girl down to the ground. Then she knelt down and took Epona's left knee between her hands. "Hold still," Tara said gruffly. Her fingers began to knead at the tensed muscles of Epona's thigh, gently working upward from her knee to her hip. When the tightness beneath her fingers loosened, Tara turned her attention to the little slave's other leg. Epona gave a soft sigh of relief and rested her forehead against her owner's shoulder as she worked. "There," Tara said finally. "Try it now." Epona stiffly got to her feet. "Better?" The slave nodded shyly. "Good. Let's get the horses taken care of, then."

Both women were tired. They didn't speak as they brushed down and tethered their mounts for the night. Tara built a small fire while Epona laid out their sleeping mat and furs. They ate a trail ration apiece, still without talking. Then, wearily, Epona began to take off her cloak and gambeson. Tara sat and watched the little slave lay the garments aside and sit down to take off her boots. The girl's tired eyes moved to her owner's as she finished this little operation. "Aren't you coming to bed?"

"No. Not tonight." Tara would have loved nothing more than to climb under those furs and take the girl in her arms, but she shook her head stolidly. "I have to keep watch. Drea was right behind us, so there's no guarantee we won't be attacked during the night. You just sleep, _beag luch."_

The slave crept mournfully under the furs. Her large eyes peered at Tara from her warm cocoon a few minutes later. "Can you at least come sit by me, ma'am?" she pleaded softly.

An indulgent smile twitched Tara's lips. "All right," she said quietly, and moved over to sit beside the slave. Her hand moved to sort absently through the black curls that lay against the mat's surface. "Better, you runty little rodent?"

"Yeah." Epona slipped one little paw out from beneath the furs to rest it against the warrior's knee. There was silence for a while. "Ma'am?" came the soft voice again.

"What?" Tara raised a brow coolly.

"Would you say something in Gael?" the slave murmured. "You promised you would, remember?"

"I don't recall promising that I'd do it _today."_ The warrior shook her head and smiled at the pleading little face that peeped up at her. "All right, then. Fine. If it'll get you off my back for a while." She paused for a moment, considering what to say. After a moment, Tara took a deep breath, leaned back on her hands, and looked up at the stars that glinted through the trees overhead. Her voice broke the silence again.

_"'S Ì Bl'th geal Na SmÈar Ì  
's Ì bl-th deas na s' craobh Ì,  
's Ì planda b'fhearr mÈin mhaith  
le hamharc do sh'l;  
's Ì mo chuisle, 's Ì mo r'n Ì,  
's Ì bl'th na n'll gcumhra Ì,  
is samhradh ins an fhuacht Ì  
idir Nollaig is C'isc."_

There was silence again for a while after Tara stopped speaking. Then the small hand on the warrior's knee squeezed gently. "That was awfully pretty," Epona said sleepily. "What's it mean?"

Tara's cheeks reddened. She was glad of the darkness that hid it. "It's a poem," she said gruffly, "about blackberries."

"Oh."

The warrior scowled. "Enough nonsense, now, squirt," she said, reaching down to tweak Epona's button nose. "You rest now, understand?" The little slave murmured something unintelligible and closed her eyes. In a couple of minutes, her breathing had deepened and sweetened, and Epona was sound asleep.

Tara settled herself in to watch for the night, loosening her sword in its sheath. It had felt strange to speak her native tongue again – strange, but good. She looked down at the peaceful face of her slumbering slave. The words of the poem came back to her, and she whispered them softly, this time in Argonian.

_"She's the blackberry-flower,  
the fine raspberry-flower,  
she's the plant of best breeding  
your eyes could behold;  
she's my darling and dear,  
my fresh apple-tree flower,  
she is Summer in the cold  
between Winter and Spring."_

The darkness and silence of the woods flooded in as the words faded from Tara's lips. She reached out a long finger to brush a stray curl gently away from Epona's face. With a deep sigh, the warrior turned her watchful eyes back out into the night.


	36. Chapter 36

They had been very fortunate thus far. No one had attacked them.

Tara reined in Cerberus as they reached the top of the hill and sat up straight in her saddle, using all of her height and his to give her the best possible vantage point. Her sharp eyes raked over the landscape around them. Behind her, she heard Bram's hoofbeats slow and stop as Epona waited patiently. The warrior narrowed her eyes as she searched. There was a break in the woods of several miles – about four behind them and one before, and roughly two on either side. She could see no sign of humanity anywhere, save for the road they were following.

"Do you see anything, ma'am?" Epona's soft voice broke into her concentration.

"No. I don't." Tara glanced at the slave girl. Epona was riding well, considering she'd been doing it for three straight days, now. She hadn't complained about the pace they were setting, or the ache of her body from the riding, or even the short rations the two of them were living on. For that, Tara was grateful. She scratched her nose and looked back out at the horizon. "You feeling all right, squirt?"

"I'm all right." The small girl's eyes were calm. "Do you think we're nearly in Sarmatia?"

The warrior's keen eyes narrowed thoughtfully as they studied the road ahead. "Soon," she said. "We'll be over the Sarmatian border by sundown, at least. I'll rest easier once we're out of Argonia. I think Drea will be more reluctant to follow us the farther we get from her native soil."

Epona looked worried. "Isn't Sarmatia kind of a dangerous place?" she asked. "I've heard there's a lot of barbarian tribes there, and they don't like strangers."

"It's no more dangerous for us than Argonia is, at the moment. I prefer barbarians who aren't actively hunting us over mercenaries who are." Tara tightened her legs on her mount's sides, and he resumed his brisk walk. "It's been a long time since I've been up this way," she mused aloud. "Haven't been near this area of Argonia since I led the charge against those three Amazon villages, way back when."

The slave's eyes widened. "Are we near there?" she asked in a hushed voice. "Shouldn't we stay far away from the Amazons?"

Tara favored her with a cool smile. "I'm not a fool, Epona," she said. "Those villages are more than two days' ride to the east of here, and we're going north. Do you really think I'd ride into the heart of Amazon territory by myself?"

"No, ma'am," the slave said humbly. "I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking."

Normally, Tara would probably have said something caustic, but she found herself distracted by the way Epona looked. She'd pulled up the hood of her cloak to shield her face from the sun. Its dark gray brought out the creamy pallor of her skin and the deep green of her eyes. _She really is beautiful,_ the warrior thought suddenly. _She really, truly is. Why does it come as such a shock to me every time I notice it?_ "Whatever," Tara mumbled, looking away. "It's not important." She reached back and dug in one of her saddlebags for a moment. "Here," she said, and tossed a cake of dried figs in Epona's direction. "Munch on that. It'll do you for food until we stop for the night."

The little slave caught the small offering and nibbled on it quietly. The food kept her busy for a few minutes. Tara lost herself in thought – she was plotting out their route in her mind, going over different possible scenarios. She'd already vetoed taking the sea route from Argonia, since she'd wanted to get out of the country as quickly as possible, and they were nearer to Sarmatia than to the ocean. But that didn't mean that they couldn't catch a ship someplace else. _Maybe we should go to the port in Romus,_ she thought. _There are lots of ships from there traveling up north, and that would save us having to travel through Gaul…it would save us a lot of traveling through Britannia, too, which is good. The less crazed warmongering tribes we have to slip past, the better. And, of course, it won't take as long. And it'd be harder for Drea to follow us, too._

"Are we going stop to eat during the day once we're in Sarmatia, ma'am?" Epona's innocent green eyes peered up at her. Tara scowled at her, annoyed at having her thought process broken. "I just wondered," the slave murmured. "It would be kind of nice to be able to get down and walk a bit sometimes."

Tara sighed. "Not yet, little mouse," she said quietly. "We're still too close. Another three days or so of hard riding, and then we can start breaking to eat at noon again." She reached over and gave one of the slave's curls a light tug. "Hang in there. It won't be too much longer now."

"It's worse for you." Epona shook her head solemnly. "You haven't slept in three nights."

"Sleep does you no good if you're dead," Tara said grimly. She could feel the exhaustion on the periphery of her awareness, but she resolutely thrust it back. "Someone has to keep watch. And since you don't know which end of a sword to hold, that someone's going to have to be me. That's it."

The smaller girl said nothing for a while. "But you must need rest," she whispered at length. "Doesn't it hurt your fighting if you haven't slept in a long time?"

"Let me worry about that," Tara growled. "I know what I'm doing, believe it or not. I've been saving my own hide since before you were born, you lippy wench. Just keep your mouth shut and do as you're told." Epona lowered her head and fell silent. The warrior scowled out at the unoffending landscape and shut her lips tightly. _The worst thing is, the kid's right,_ she reluctantly admitted to herself. _I do need sleep. I'm practically nodding off right now. Tonight I'll probably have to let her stay awake for me for a while, even though it's bloody dangerous. Damn it…I don't like it._ "I wish there was a way I didn't have to sleep at all," she muttered out loud, casting the girl a sidelong glance. "I don't like leaving you unprotected."

Epona, who had been biting her lip and staring down at Bram's ears with suspiciously wet eyes, looked up. "But I wouldn't be," she said softly. "You'd still be there. I could wake you if there was any trouble, right?"

Tara sighed. "The problem with that is that some trouble doesn't give you enough time, little mouse." She felt the burn of anger dissipating, and sighed at the look on the little slave's face. "Just don't question my competence anymore, all right? It upsets me. Don't provoke me."

"Okay." Epona bit her lips again. "I…didn't mean to, ma'am. I was just worried about you, that's all."

_And that was probably the truth._ Tara shifted in her saddle and glowered down at her own hands. _The real truth is that she just pointed out a couple of facts that you didn't want to hear, and you bit her head off for it. Way to go, Terror of Gaelis. At this rate, the kid's going to be too petrified to even talk to you._ The warrior rubbed her eyes. "Do you remember what I said to you after we left that farm, Epona? About how you shouldn't take everything I say personally, because I've got a temper?" Quiet green eyes met hers as the slave girl nodded. "This is one of those times."

"I'll try not to, then," Epona murmured. "It's sort of hard, though." Tara shot her a keen and questioning look. "Well, because now you're kind of all I've got. If you're mad at me, where else could I go, ma'am?"

That, unfortunately for Epona, was true. Tara thought about the problem for a moment. Then the warrior swallowed her pride and reached over to lightly clasp the slave's slender wrist. "I'm not mad at you. And when I am, I promise not to stay mad." She gave Epona's arm a light squeeze. "Deal?"

Epona searched her face for a moment. Then her lips curved into a timid smile, and she nodded. "Deal."

"Good." Tara hastily released the girl's hand and turned back to the road. "Now, help me keep an eye out," she said gruffly. "Between the two of us, we should be able to keep anyone from getting the drop on us."

"Yes, ma'am." Epona bobbed her curly head and began to scan their surroundings obediently.

Part of what had Tara so on edge, aside from the fact that she was being hunted, was that this time she was simply running. Not retreating until she found a suitable place to stand and fight; not falling back to get reinforcements to meet the threat head-on; she was just plain running away, hoping to shake her pursuer. Tara rested her hand on her sword hilt and frowned, absently brushing the well-worn wood and leather with her fingers. Never in her life had she run away from a fight. She'd lost a few, of course, but never because she'd fled from it. _I don't like this,_ Tara thought darkly. _Maybe I should find a spot where I could launch my own ambush, and just take Drea down. She can't take me in a clean fight – it'd be over in minutes._ The warrior debated this silently for several minutes before finally shaking her head. _No. I can't…well, yes, I could. But I don't want to do it._

Tara's brown eyes flicked over to the slave and considered her for a moment. "Epona, you don't want me to kill Drea. Right?" Surprised, the smaller girl stared at her, and then shook her head. "Well, I won't if I can avoid it. But you need to know that I will if I have to. If she comes at us, I'm going to protect you – and if I have to kill her to do it, I will."

"I understand," Epona said quietly. "But I'd still rather just leave and go traveling."

The warrior couldn't help grinning. "We are traveling, unobservant rodent. Notice the road, the trees, the horses…?"

Epona's black brows came down, and her lower lip thrust outward into a pout that Tara found almost irresistibly charming. "That's not what I meant," the slave said, in a wounded tone. "I mean looking at new things, and meeting different people, and not having to look over our shoulders all the time."

"I know, I know." Tara's teasing mood faded, and she leaned over to give Epona's thigh an affectionate swat. "Soon. In a couple days we'll slow down a bit. You'll see some interesting things in Romus…I should be able to show you a few of the sights before we catch a ship there. And sailing should be pretty safe. Well, from Drea, anyway."

"We're gonna go on a ship?" Epona's eyes widened and began to shine like stars. "Really? I'll get to see the ocean, then!"

"Oh, you'll see it, all right. More of it than you'll want, probably." Tara grinned at her. "And once we land in Britannia, I can show you a few more things. And, of course, in Gaelis, once we're there."

The little slave clapped her hands in delight, forgetting for a moment that they still held Bram's reins. "Oh, this is going to be so exciting!" She wriggled in her saddle. "What's Gaelis like, ma'am? I've heard stories about Romus and ships, but never any about Gaelis, or even Britannia."

Tara scratched her nose thoughtfully. "Britannia's a bit like Romus, since it's one of the colonies now," she said. "There are a lot of roads, mostly for military use. The odd village or two…kind of rustic, I guess. The food's not overly good, but the beer's decent. I only spent a few weeks there before I headed out to Argonia. Haven't seen the place in over fifteen years." She paused. "Gaelis…there's a lot of really high cliffs overlooking the sea. Everything's as green as an emerald in the spring and summer. Lots of folks keep sheep and goats. No cattle, really. Little towns, hot stews, baked potatoes, and good, dark beer. You'll like it."

Epona cocked her head. "You miss it, don't you?"

The warrior gave her a look. "I don't think about it much," she said shortly. "But…maybe I miss it a little, sometimes," she admitted. "I don't miss starving in the streets and shivering in the gutter all day, but it's a beautiful place. Even more beautiful than Argonia, sometimes. Wilder, for sure."

"It would have to be," Epona said gravely, "if you came from there."

Tara dealt the slave another smack on her leg. "Enough with the sweet talk, you silver-tongued rascally rodent," she growled. "You think flattery's going to sway me?"

Green eyes sparkled with mischief and merriment. "Yes, ma'am."

"You little runt." Tara couldn't help grinning. "Just you wait until we stop for the night. I'll show you what I do to cheeky little minxes of adorable slave girls who don't know when to keep their mouths shut!"

"Ooo."


	37. Chapter 37

The sun was going down already, and they'd only made a few miles since morning. Tara rubbed at the back of her neck in frustration. Her brown eyes flicked over to her young companion. The girl was riding silently on Bram, her curly head hanging low, but Tara could see her pallor, and the lines of tension along her jawline. The warrior sighed and rubbed her neck again. "How is it, squirt?" she asked.

Epona peered at her out of the corner of her eye. "It hurts," she admitted softly. "But I can bear it."

"It's not a question of _bearing_ it," Tara muttered. "This isn't the kind of thing we can ignore, little mouse. It's the infection thing." The slave nodded wordlessly. They rode on for a minute or two more before the warrior reined in Cerberus. "We're stopping for the night," she said curtly. "Get down. I'll deal with it before we do anything else."

They had been in Sarmatia for four days, now. On their first night, Epona had hesitantly revealed the raw sores left on her thighs by Bram's saddle. Tara had treated them, and they'd padded the saddle with whatever they could think of, but the sores were stubbornly refusing to heal. Even though the little slave never complained, Tara knew that they were causing her a lot of discomfort, particularly at the end of the long days of riding. They had to stop pretty frequently so that the warrior could change the bandages and clean the raw skin – they'd lost a lot of time.

Quietly, Epona swung down from Bram's back and seated herself on a large stone. Tara rummaged in a saddlebag for her healer's kit. Without bothering to tether either of the horses, she knelt down in front of the slave and began to draw out the things she needed to take care of the sores. "Bare 'em," she said. "Let's see if they're any better." The small girl wriggled out of her leggings and began to gingerly unwrap the bandages that covered her inner thighs.

The sores were no better. In fact, if Tara's memory served her correctly, they were worse – deeper, angrier, and maybe even bigger. She took one lean thigh between her hands and examined the wounds closely, running experienced eyes over the inflamed flesh. "Not good," she muttered, shaking her head. "Do they hurt more than they used to?"

"Yes, ma'am," Epona said, and bit her lips. "They feel hot, now, too. And they itch a lot."

"Damn it." Tara scowled as she opened a small container of salve. Her mind raced as she gently applied the cooling lotion to the angry sores. _I can't mess around with infection. If these get too much worse, Epona could really be in trouble, and we're out in the middle of nowhere. We're going to have to stay put for a day or two and let them heal._ She gritted her teeth, her sandy brows drawn low over worried brown eyes. _I don't like it. We've already lost too much time…Drea was only a few hours behind us when we left Abdera, and she could be here any minute. Damn it, damn it, damn it! Are all the gods against me, or something?_ "Is that a little better, _beag luch?"_ she asked quietly, closing the container again.

Epona nodded. "Kind of," she murmured. She looked tired; her face was drawn, making her seem older than she was. She reached for her discarded leggings. "I'll get a fire started and make supper."

"No." Tara's strong hand fell on the girl's skinny shoulder. Mildly startled green eyes peered up at her. "You rest," the warrior said. "Lie down, or something. It's no good you hurting yourself worse, kid. Lie down. I'll take care of things for tonight."

"Okay." The little slave smiled, her eyes warm and soft with gratitude. "Thank you, ma'am."

"Just don't make it a habit," Tara growled. She waved her hand at a nearby patch of soft grass. "Lie down there until I've got camp set up properly. Stay out of trouble." Epona obediently lowered herself onto the ground. The warrior heard her sigh in relief. _Well, that settles it,_ Tara thought reluctantly. _We'll have to stay here until the day after tomorrow. Burning, bloody Tartarus…_ She silently tethered the horses to a couple of trees. The currycomb was filthy; Tara brushed all the loose horsehair off it and eyed it with distaste. "I'm going to rinse this off in the brook," she said to her slave. "Maybe I'll fill our water skin, too. Be right back."

Epona smiled. "All right," she said softly. "Are you sure you don't want me to do anything for you, ma'am?"

Tara shook her finger sternly. "You just stay put, runty rodent," she said. "If you try to do any work, I'm going to put you over my knee. Do we understand each other?" The slave looked up at her and smiled, a dear little dimpled grin that melted the warrior like snow in a campfire. Tara scowled to avoid returning the smile, caught up the empty water skin, and headed for the creek that flowed about forty yards from their campsite.

The cheerful gurgling of the brook soothed Tara's nerves a bit. She rinsed the currycomb thoroughly in the clear water. Her mind drifted as she worked. _It'll be strange to be in Romus again,_ she thought. _Haven't been there since I went with Drea, way back when…_

That had been during the second year that she'd fought under Vasilus. Drea had been a young hothead then. The dark-skinned woman had spent five of her then-seventeen years in the gladiator training pits of Romus, fighting savagely for her life against men and women far stronger than she was. She'd finally gotten lucky enough to escape, and had fled home to Argonia, where she'd joined up with Vasilus, only a couple of weeks after Tara had. The Gael had taken to Drea right away, and the two had become something like friends, which is why Drea had asked Tara to come with her back to Romus. She'd wanted to track down and kill the man who'd kept her prisoner in the pits – Lorent.

For Tara, the journey had been an incredible experience. She'd grown up among the rustic villages of Gael, and even the comparative civilization of the smaller Argonian towns hadn't prepared her for the magnificence of the mighty capital of Romus. The sheer size of the place had dropped young Tara's jaw. She'd seen paved streets, intricately-sculpted statues, and even – in the distance – the magnificent palace of the Emperor himself. And then, of course, there was the Coliseum, where they'd gone to look for Lorent…

They'd cornered him that night as he came out of a bar. Drea had thrust her sword between his ribs after a pitched fight – Tara hadn't even had to step in.

Tara set aside the brush and dipped the water skin into the cold liquid. She thought about Epona, and how the slave would probably react to the sights in Romus. Her lips curved. _I bet her eyes are going to pop right out of her head,_ she thought. _Maybe I'll get the time to take her to a couple of the temples there…some of the statues and things will blow her mind. And the Senate, too. Lots of beautiful architecture around the place._

Heh. Listen to me, planning this as if it's a vacation instead of running for our lives. I'm getting soft in the head. Tara shook her head ruefully and lifted up the full water skin, pressing the cork firmly into its spout. _Just take care of business, Tara. Never mind frolicking with your damn slave. There'll be time enough for that once you've shaken Drea off your tail._ She rose to her feet and headed back for their camp.

As she stepped into the clearing, two things registered immediately. First was the fact that Epona was gone. The second was more nebulous – a kind of tightening in Tara's gut and at the back of her neck. By sheer instinct, the warrior abruptly dropped what she was carrying and hurled herself forward into a roll, groping at the hilt of her sword. There were three sharp thuds as arrows buried themselves in the trunk of the tree that she'd been standing in front of not an instant before! Tara came up on her feet with her weapon drawn. Even so, she just barely managed to deflect the blade that swung at her head.

_What the hell?_ Tara had no time to really analyze anything. Another sword whipped at her midsection. She twisted to avoid it as she blocked another blow to her head, and then leaped over a mace that was swinging hard at her legs. For a few minutes, she couldn't get a clean look at any of her antagonists; she was far too busy trying to keep her own hide intact. At last, she managed to catch a glimpse of one of them. It was a woman in her mid-thirties, a battle-scarred veteran with grim black eyes and deeply tanned skin. Her clothes were brief, exposing her midriff and her legs to halfway up her thighs. She wore a light helm, and her tunic and short leggings were sewn with plates of hard leather, but she really had very little in the way of armor.

_Amazons._

What were the odds of this, really? Tara was sure that they were at least four or five days' ride away from any of the Amazon settlements. How had they found her? It couldn't be a coincidence, could it? She gritted her teeth and blocked a sword, at the same time leaning in to take a mace blow against the hard plate armor that protected her shoulder. Even through the metal, the blow hurt. "Burn in Tartarus!" she snarled, whipping her own blade around. The wielder of the mace, a brown-haired woman who looked roughly twenty years old, wasn't quick enough to avoid the blow. She crumpled to the ground, clutching feebly at the blood gushing from her chest. Tara had no time to bask in her triumph, as several blades kept her busy.

_"Tara! Tar – mmph!"_

The scream brought the warrior's head around with a snap. Bram was gone. There was a scantily-clad Amazon on the broad back of Cerberus. She was a tall woman, maybe even as tall as Tara herself; as such, she dwarfed the slender prisoner who was clutched in her muscular arms. Her hair was as black as coal. White teeth flashed as the woman grinned in Tara's direction. Epona was struggling helplessly – her hands had been tied behind her back, and one of the Amazon's hands was clamped tightly over her mouth. "You want her back, daughter of Ares?" the woman sneered. "Come and get her, if you can!" And she dug her heels into the warhorse's sides. The beast snorted and galloped off into the woods.

Tara gave a cry of denial. In her distraction, she very nearly let one of her attackers chop off her left arm. She dodged the blow – barely. She felt rather than saw the arrows that flew at her then, and dove behind a nearby tree to avoid them; one stung the flesh of her back as it sliced the air. More arrows followed, and still more, until Tara had to hunker down behind a large stone to avoid the rain of death. She heard more horses, and a couple of shouts. Then the arrows stopped flying.

Immediately, Tara leaped from her hiding place, her sword still drawn in her hand…but the clearing was empty. She was alone.

Her breath came in deep pants. Her first instinct was to charge after the horses to try to recover her stolen property, but the Amazons had been thorough – no less than five different trails left the campsite, in five directions. Tara ground her teeth in helpless rage. She was starting to feel dangerously close to hysterics.

_Okay. Okay, calm down. Epona needs you…think, woman. Think!_ The warrior looked around to see what she had left. She hadn't yet unloaded the saddlebags, and so all of her gear was gone, as well as her shield and javelin. All the food had been with the horses – and the bedrolls – and her cloak. The only things she had left were the armor and weapons she was wearing, the water skin, and the currycomb. _Damn it. Damn it, damn it, damn it all…those thrice-damned bitch harpies!_ Slowly, she turned to the broken form of the one she'd managed to hit.

The young woman was plainly dead. Her mace lay nearby. Tara inspected it for a moment before thrusting it into her belt – she wasn't going to waste a weapon that might come in handy later. There was nothing else of value on the body. Tara looked at the girl's belt, and soon came across a mark tooled into the leather that looked like a stylized bow. Although she didn't recognize that specific symbol, she knew it to be the mark of an Amazon clan. _Huh. Well, it isn't the mark of any of the three villages I razed._ Impatiently, Tara got up and went to examine the five trails that led out of the camp.

As wily as the Amazons were, there was no disguising the huge hoofmarks left by Cerberus. Tara soon found them. "Ah," she muttered. "There you are." Her brown eyes narrowed and flashed dangerously as she lifted them to glare into the peaceful-looking woods. "You'd better run, you Amazon bitches," she growled. "You'd better run!" And she took off at a run, following the trail of Epona's captors.


	38. Chapter 38

It had been a long day. Tara wrapped her arm more securely around the trunk of the tree she was perched in, glad at least of the rest her overtaxed body was getting. Her eyes narrowed as she peered out through the leaves that concealed her.

It seemed that her knowledge of the area was a little dated. There was, in fact, an Amazon settlement only a few hours' travel from where she and Epona had been camped. It had been there for over a year, she thought, judging by the stockade walls they'd erected around the yurt-like tents that constituted the bulk of their village. Tara's brown eyes moved slowly over their defenses. _Probably between four and five hundred Amazons in the place. They're on the alert – guards everywhere._ She glanced over to her right, to a tree about fifty yards away that she knew held one of the Amazon guard posts. Her sharp eyes could make out the woman crouched there. Tara smirked. It had taken some doing, but she'd finally managed to worm her way quite close to the village; she wondered how all of those guards were going to feel when that fact came to light.

The warrior studied her surroundings again. There was a cleared perimeter around the settlement that extended about forty yards from the stockade walls; anyone approaching the place would be seen. Guards were posted every hundred yards or so, armed with longbows; Tara could see the weapon of the woman who stood on the wall nearest her. _If I even tried to get near the place, I'd be shot down,_ she mused. _And even I can't take on four or five hundred Amazons by myself. No good even trying. I'll have to come up with some other plan._ Her gaze slowly moved past the wall, to once more take in a sight that made her guts clench with anger and worry.

There was a cleared space roughly in the center of the village, likely used for assemblies and weapons training. The Amazons had erected a stake in the middle of it; bound tightly to it was the unmistakable form of Epona. She was alone there, without any obvious guards, but Tara's keen eyes had spotted the warriors stationed around the perimeter of the area. It was an obvious trap, with the small slave as bait. Tara's jaw tightened. _I have to find a way to get her out of there. But how?_

For nearly half an hour, the warrior simply stayed where she was, studying the movements of her enemies and laying her plans. The forest slowly grew darker as she pondered. At last, with a cool nod, Tara made her decision. She glanced over at the guard who was perched in the tree not too far from her. In the fading light, she could see that the woman was looking to her left, away from where Tara crouched.

Tara had carefully stashed most of her armor and her sword near where she and Epona had been camped, realizing that she couldn't move quickly or quietly while carrying it. She still wore her padded leather tunic, and was carrying a sharp knife in one of her boots. Tara slipped the weapon from its place and took it between her teeth. Then, quickly and noiselessly, she leaped from her place into the branches of another tree. She froze there, watching; the guard's eyes were sweeping the forest alertly, but she didn't seem to have detected Tara's movement. The warrior waited until the woman's eyes were averted again, and sprang forward once more.

It seemed like it took a long time before Tara was finally crouching in the tree right next to where the guard was. Several times, she thought she'd been discovered. Tara's heart was pounding with excitement now. She slowly took the weapon from between her teeth, taking care not to let the moonlight reflect off the blade. A short pause – then the guard turned her head away again, and Tara sprang!

The Amazon didn't even have time to cry out before the sharp blade severed her throat. Tara caught the slumping body as it fell and propped it back against the tree trunk. She felt a moment's pang as she looked down at the blankly-staring eyes. _I'm glad Epona didn't have to see that._ Tara wiped her knife clean and sheathed it. Then she took a moment to close the woman's eyes before proceeding with her plan. Fortunately, the guard was fairly broad across the shoulders and hips; her clothes fit Tara not too badly. What there was of them, anyway. The warrior eyed the brief top and short leather skirt with some annoyance.

_All right. Now I'd better make sure this disguise is complete._ Tara slipped on the woman's decorated armbands and vambraces, and then took the feathers and ornaments from her hair. This brought something else to mind. The warrior touched her own fiery locks with a frown. _Even if it is dark, someone's going to notice the tall redhead. I'd better do something about this before I go in there._ She left the body where it was and lightly jumped down to the ground. There was a river not far from where she was. Tara knelt down on its banks, scooped up a few handfuls of river mud, and ground it carefully into her hair. Soon it was a mucky brown color. Tara shivered at the filthy sensation, but resolutely thrust that aside and braided the Amazon ornaments into it as best she could. Then, straightening her back, the warrior headed back toward the settlement.

As she approached, she saw the guards at the gate straighten up alertly. Tara calmly raised her fist in the air in the signal of friendship, silently thanking the gods that she knew this much about Amazon culture. The guards relaxed visibly at the gesture, but one of them stepped forward to intercept her. Tara stopped and eyed the woman coolly. "What brings you here tonight, my sister?" the guard asked. "News from a sister clan?"

Tara gave a relaxed grin. "Nothing so official, I'm afraid," she said, thinking quickly. "I'm from your sister clan to the east. I'm on a hunting trip. Luck's been pretty bad; I lost my bow, and I'm out of food. I was hoping for a meal and a place to sleep, my sister." She hoped the guard wouldn't look too closely at the marks on her clothes.

"Of course." The young woman returned the smile. "We'd be glad to have you. Every blade's needed right now. We're expecting to be attacked by Tara of Gaelis within the next couple of days."

"Really?" Tara raised her brows, containing her amusement with an effort. "Isn't she the one who razed three of our villages a few years back and crucified the queens?"

"That's the bitch." The guard nodded and stepped aside. "Just go ahead and go to the mess tent. It's late, but there's usually someone there, and they'll fix you up with something. Make sure you report to Queen Valora or Theone, though – they'll want to know you're here, uh…" The woman paused. "I don't think I caught your name."

"I didn't give one." Tara gave her most enigmatic smile. Her mind was racing. _Theone. That was Hadrien's girlfriend, wasn't it?_ "My name is Thea."

"Welcome, Sister Thea. I'm Phoebe." The Amazon extended her hand. Tara gripped her forearm and bobbed her head briefly. "Watch out for the bread in the mess tent," she said, releasing the Gael's arm. "They're training some new cooks, and the stuff's like rocks." The guard resumed her post by the gate. Tara strode calmly into the settlement.

The moment it was safe to do so, the redhead ducked into the shadow of a tent and took her bearings. The clearing where Epona was being held lay to her left; the stables lay to her right. Tara thought for a moment before stealing carefully toward the stables. She'd need to get Cerberus back if they were to have any chance at all of escaping, and she suspected she wasn't going to have time to get him once she'd freed the girl. Silently, Tara slipped through the door of one of the few permanent structures in the village. The smell of manure and straw assailed her sensitive nostrils. The warrior paused to let her eyes grow used to the inside light.

It didn't take long to spot the huge warhorse. They'd stabled him next to Bram; both animals had been properly rubbed down. Tara nodded her approval as she looked around. There was no one near. She slipped over to where Cerberus was and rubbed his nose; he snorted and mouthed her shirt. "Good boy," she murmured, and smiled a bit. "Did you miss me?" The beast huffed, his breath stirring in her hair. "Don't worry, boy. We'll break out of here soon. Just wait here until I come get you, all right?" Tara slapped his neck affectionately and turned to search the stables.

She found her saddlebags after a few minutes of looking. Everything of real value had been removed; all that was left were the bedrolls and a few bits of leather that Tara sometimes used to patch her armor. She scowled. _Well, I'll just have to take the losses…but damned if I'm going to let these harpies keep my shield and javelin. I bloody earned those, and they're mine!_ Tara left the bags where they were and slipped back out into the village. She had an idea of where she'd find her lost property.

The queen's tent was obvious. It was larger than the others, and her royal mask hung over its entrance. Tara crouched behind another tent, pondering what to do next. As she did, she heard voices approaching; one of them sounded oddly familiar. The Gael turned to find the source of it.

Three women were walking toward the queen's tent, flanked by four guards. One of them was a slim, wiry blonde woman; the ornaments on her wrists and belt marked her as the queen. _What did that guard say her name was? Valora?_ The second was tall and muscular, with jet-black hair and a confident stride. Tara recognized her with a surge of anger. That was the woman who had taken Epona! Then the Gael's eyes fell on the third figure, and her mouth dropped open.

_Drea._

Valora was speaking. The words drifted to Tara's dumbfounded ears. "…Wouldn't have thought you'd be interested in making deals with us. How did you know we wouldn't just kill you on the spot? You were with the Gael bitch when she slaughtered all those unarmed Amazon prisoners, after all."

"True," Drea said. Her tone was calm. "But I figured you'd want her more. And since she's a problem for both you and for me, I thought you'd probably cut a deal."

"You're sure the Gael will take the bait?" That was the large Amazon. Even in the dim torchlight, Tara could see that her eyes were narrowed and her lips were tight. "The woman's a strategist. It's highly unlikely she'd just walk into a trap. I still think you're up to something. And if you are, I'm going to make you pay for it."

Drea eyed the taller woman nervously. Tara noticed that her former friend was unarmed. She glanced from Drea to the guards that flanked her, and guessed the woman was something like a prisoner. "She'll come, Theone," she said quietly. "Tara thinks the sun rises and sets on the skinny little slut. And even without the kid, she'd come after you just for taking her property. She's a proud woman. She'll come." _Theone._ Tara eyed the tall Amazon warrior. _So that's Hadrien's girl. Wonder what she saw in him?_

"She'd better," Theone growled. "If she doesn't, you'll have more to worry about than not getting your little prize. I'll nail you to a cross myself!"

"She'll come," the dark-skinned woman repeated firmly.

They had reached the royal tent. Valora made a dismissive gesture. "Take our guest to prison, Theone. We'll keep her locked up until Tara makes her move. Once we've killed the Gael, we'll figure out what to do with her." Theone coldly grasped Drea by her upper arm and steered her away, followed by two of the four guards. The other two took their places on either side of the royal tent's entrance. Valora slipped inside; there was silence again.

_So…it was Drea. She did betray me._ Tara's teeth clenched. _Doesn't explain how she knew where I'd be, but…whatever. Get it together, Tara. This doesn't change anything. Get your shield and javelin back, go get Cerberus, and let's break Epona the hell out of here!_ Stealthily, Tara crept around to the back of the royal tent. Once there, she crouched down low and very carefully eased the heavy fabric up so that she could peep inside.

Valora's tent seemed to be divided into two sections. Tara was peering into the main room, which contained a wooden chair, a low table, an assortment of weapons and armor, and a couple of small ornaments. The other, smaller room was only partly visible from where Tara was. It was separated from the rest of the tent by a curtain of burgundy fabric. Tara could just make out the foot of a small cot inside it. Valora herself was seated in the chair, reading a scroll. She was only a couple of feet from the spy; if she'd lowered her eyes and glanced to her right, she'd have been looking directly into her eyes. Tara stayed very still. As she watched, the Amazon queen wrote something, set down both quill and scroll, and got up from her chair. She slipped into the adjoining room. After a moment or two, Tara heard the cot creak. The queen had gone to bed.

Normally, Tara would have waited until she was sure Valora was asleep to act, but she knew she couldn't. It was only a matter of time before the dead guard was discovered, and Tara did not want to be around for that. Cautiously, silently, the Gael lifted the tent's fabric higher, until finally she could slip beneath it. She did so, and gently let it down behind her. Tara's sharp eyes examined the collection of weapons and armor, and spotted her own shield and javelin a few seconds later. Very slowly, hardly daring to breathe, Tara crept forward and reached out. She managed to clasp both weapon and shield without rattling the other items.

Slowly, still silently, the redhead slipped back to where she'd come in. With great care, she laid down the javelin, lifted up the tent's fabric again, and crept under it. She reached back for the weapon, and then gingerly let the thick cloth down behind her. Tara stopped and listened for a moment. All was silent. She had half a mind to go find the Amazon prison and save them the trouble of executing Drea. Tara laid a hand on her knife hilt. _No,_ she thought reluctantly, releasing it. _If I want to get Epona out of here, I can't let myself get distracted. Deal with Drea later – if there is a later for her._ She turned back the way she had come.

It didn't take long for her to sneak back to the stables. There, Tara saddled Cerberus and loaded him with the things she'd managed to recover. She paused then, her brown eyes resting thoughtfully on Bram. It would be harder to escape with the smaller horse in tow, and Tara's first instinct was to leave him behind. However…she chewed her lip, remembering how Epona had stroked his nose and fed him apples. _The kid likes him,_ Tara thought resignedly, turning back to where the Amazons kept the harness.

Once she had both horses ready, it was time for the most dangerous and difficult part of Tara's plan. The woman slipped from the stables and went to a nearby tent. She'd seen guards going in and out of the place during her scouting of the settlement, and she hoped she was right about what it was. Tara's lips curved into a smile as she ducked inside and laid eyes on the piles of carefully-stored bows, arrows and blades. _So, it is the armory! Perfect._ She chose a bow and a quiver. Then, after a moment's hesitation, she also buckled a sword around her waist. She'd left her own blade behind in the interest of stealth, but she thought she might need a sword soon. This done, Tara looked around and took the lid off a nearby barrel. The smell of kerosene filled the tent. Grimacing, she hastily dipped the heads of a handful of arrows in the liquid. Then Tara quickly replaced the barrel's lid. Her feet were noiseless as she crept out of the tent.

_It's time._ Tara breathed deeply as she crouched in the darkness of the stable door. There was a torch off to one side, maybe five yards from where she was hiding. In a moment, she was going to step out into its light. This meant she might be seen – and it was very important that she _not_ be seen. She searched her surroundings with great thoroughness. There was a guard on top of the wall who might possibly spot her. Calmly, Tara drew out one of her undipped arrows and put it to the string. The arrow's fletching tickled her cheek as she took careful aim. Her fingers relaxed. There was a soft swish, followed by a slight thump. Tara saw the guard's silhouette throw up its arms and vanish; there was no cry. Her arrow had struck the shadowed woman's throat squarely.

The Gael took another deep breath. _Okay. Here goes._ Smoothly, she stepped over to the torch and thrust the head of one of her dipped arrows into it. The kerosene caught and burned. Tara drew her bow, took aim, and fired. The flaming missile hurtled through the air like a comet and burrowed its nose into the roof of the royal tent.

Without missing a beat, Tara lit another arrow, turned around, and fired at the mess tent that loomed there, large and unmistakable. Once more, the Gael lit and fired an arrow, this time into a random tent on a third side. Then she slung the bow and quiver over her shoulder and went to collect the horses.

Cries of confusion and alarm rose up as the Gael rode from the stables. People were running around in panic – some toward the mess tent, and some toward their queen's. Everywhere she looked, there was utter chaos. Tara smirked, drew her sword, and dug her heels into her horse's flanks. "Yah! Yah!" Cerberus rumbled forward with a toss of his mighty head. Bram galloped alongside them. Tara had taken care to tie his reins to the stirrup of the warhorse.

There were no obvious guards around Epona. Tara grimly urged Cerberus onward. _No time to check. We've got a minute or two at the most to get the hell out of here, or it's lights out._ She could see Epona's eyes as they lifted to meet her; they looked black and lustrous in the night. "T-Tara…?" The warrior reined in the warhorse. Before he had even stopped completely, Tara vaulted from his back, landing fair on her feet. Her sword hacked once, twice; then the prisoner was scooped up in her arms, and she was springing back into the saddle.

As Tara urged Cerberus forward again, a sickening pain shot through her left shoulder! Darkness threatened to swallow her. By sheer force of will, Tara held Epona across her knees and kicked at her horse's sides. "Yah!" she gasped out, willing him to run faster. "Come on, you bloody old nag - _run!"_ She had a moment's impression of the gates slowly closing before her – the hissing whispers of arrows flying through the air around them – and then there was a crash. Dazed, Tara clung to the warhorse's back and to the shivering form of her slave. She could feel the beast's powerful muscles bunching and releasing beneath her. Her back and side felt cold and wet; Tara's head swam.

Slender arms wrapped around her neck. "Ma'am." Epona's voice was quivering, but her face, though pale, was composed. "You saved me! Thank you…thank you so much."

"Don't thank me yet." Tara could hear her own voice shaking. Her shoulder hurt horribly. She now suspected that she'd been hit by one of those arrows, although there was no time to stop and look. "We have to shake them first."

"Are you all right?" The slave's brow furrowed suddenly as she took in her owner's drawn face. She brought down one of her hands; something dark and slick covered it, and Epona gasped. "You're bleeding…Tara, you're hurt!"

There was something like hysteria building in the girl's tone. Tara scowled at her. "Relax," she growled. "I'm still alive. Just keep your damn head down and let me handle things, all right?" Epona flinched and huddled down in her arms. The warrior's lips curved downward. "Bloody kid. More damn trouble than you're worth. You owe me at least a few hundred backrubs for this, you hear me?" The slave silently clung to her owner's waist.

On and on they rode. Tara guided Cerberus by instinct back toward the ill-fated camp; she hoped she was right about the direction. The thick woods hid the moon and stars for the most part, so she had little to guide her. As time went on, the pain in her shoulder grew more intense. It ached and throbbed, and gave a fierce pinch every time she moved. Tara resolutely thrust the pain from her mind with a skill born from years of practice.

At last, as the sun cleared the horizon, they reached the road. Tara stopped Cerberus then, glancing around, and found to her relief that they weren't far from the campsite. They turned and rode toward it. Tara reined in her mount then and sat there for a long moment, simply staring and gritting her teeth. Then she took a slow breath. "You'll have to climb down by yourself, squirt," she said curtly. "I don't think I can lift you right now."

"Okay," Epona faltered. She clambered laboriously down from the warhorse's back. Tara dismounted a moment later. The movement sent a wave of pain shooting through her body! Before Tara could catch herself, her legs buckled, and she fell down onto her hands and knees in the dust. She heard the slave give a gasp of shock and horror. "T-Tara…you've…you're bleeding, and th-there's…an arrow…"

"An arrow stuck in my back." As weak as she felt, Tara managed to give the slave a sardonic grin. "I know."

"Oh, g-gods…" The slender girl was as white as a sheet.

_And me without my healer's kit._ The warrior let her head hang down for a minute or two as she gathered her wits. "Okay," she said at last, lifting her eyes to gaze tiredly at Epona again. "I've stashed my armor and weapons near here. We need to get them and keep riding so those Amazons don't catch up with us. But first I need you to do something for me, Epona." Trembling visibly, the slave nodded. Tara reached down, drew the knife from her boot, and held it out. "Cut that arrow out of my back."

The slave's eyes widened in fresh shock. "Wh…what?"

"Cut it out of me. If it's left in, the arrowhead will do more damage, and the wound will get infected. It'll kill me." Tara glared at her. "Take the damn knife!" Epona took it with shaking hands. "I'll talk you through it," the warrior said. Stiffly, she lay down on her belly on the ground. "Come over here." Slowly, Epona dropped to her knees beside her owner. "All right. Now, stick the point of the knife into the hole the arrow shaft made."

Epona was crying softly. "I can't," she whispered. "I ca..."

"You can!" Tara shot her a glare. "You can and you have to. I can't reach it, or I'd do it myself. Now do as I say. And do it fast – the slower you go, the worse it'll be."

There was an interminable pause. Tara squeezed her eyes shut and waited. She was very aware of the naked blade poised behind her. It would take so little for Epona to thrust it through her ribs or her neck…she had to steady her own breaths with an effort. At last, there was a sickening burst of pain, and Tara felt a fresh gush of blood flow down her side. She gave a low gasp. "Okay, it's done," came Epona's quivering voice.

"All right." Tara spoke through her clenched teeth. "Dig around until you find the barbs on the arrowhead, and cut the flesh so you can pull it out." The agony grew tenfold as the slave obeyed. Blackness swallowed Tara's vision; it took all of her self-control to remain still and conscious.

Finally, just as Tara was sure she couldn't bear the torture any longer, it stopped. "I think it's done," Epona murmured.

"Then pull…it out," The warrior's voice was barely audible. She felt a tug, and then a fresh flood of wetness and warmth. Her fogged mind fought for clarity. "The bleeding," she whispered. "Stop…bleeding…" There was a pause, and then something pressed hard against Tara's wound. The pain sent darkness and flashes of light dancing across Tara's vision. She gave a tortured moan.

"I'm sorry," Epona sobbed softly. "I'm sorry, ma'am. I'm trying not to hurt you."

"Whatever." Tara was too exhausted and spent to be reassuring. "Find a…way…bandage it. Need water…drink…"

"Okay." The warrior felt Epona's warm lips press against her cheek. "Just rest, ma'am. I'll take care of you, I promise."

It took a few minutes for Epona to bind up Tara's shoulder with strips of cloth torn from her own tunic. Then she brought the warrior water to drink. Tara felt a little better after she'd had the water. At least her vision was back to normal, and she no longer felt like she was in danger of fainting. She struggled to her feet and held herself steady until the dizziness passed. "Okay. Untie Bram's reins," she said dazedly. " I'll get my stuff. We have to get going." Tara saw the slave's mouth shut tightly on a protest. Without a word, the warrior turned away.

She had stashed her things under a pile of brush and stones. Tara got into her armor, resolutely ignoring the throbbing pain of her wound. She buckled her sword at her side, opposite the blade she'd taken from the Amazons, and hefted her mace with her good arm. Then she turned and dragged herself back to where she'd left Epona.

The slave was waiting patiently, the reins of both horses held in her small hands. As Tara approached, Epona held out those belonging to Cerberus. "Here, ma'am," she said softly. Then, "Are…are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine," Tara growled impatiently. "Mount your damn horse!" Without waiting to see if the slave would obey her, the warrior turned and stuck her foot in a stirrup. Cerberus snorted and pawed the ground as Tara hauled herself up onto his back. She had to rest for a moment, until the agony had faded into something more bearable. Then Tara breathed deeply and glanced at Epona's worried face. "Stay close," she said gruffly. "Things are still dangerous, so don't fall behind. Got it?"

"Yes, ma'am." The slave's eyes were still full of fear and worry; the warrior pushed back the impulse to comfort her. _No time for coddling now. Later, once we're in the clear._ Tara turned from the girl coldly and shook her horse's reins. Without another word, the two rode swiftly westward.


	39. Chapter 39

Firelight flickered off the branches of the trees, lending a warmth and mystery to the atmosphere. All was quiet, save for the occasional breeze that rustled the leaves, and the call of a lonely owl somewhere in the distance. Tara huddled beside the flames, trying to keep warm. Her stolen cloak was now sorely missed. She closed her eyes and rested her head against her knees, struggling to control her shivering, and the pain that throbbed in her left shoulder. It was growing again; it taxed her already depleted reserves. Tara shuddered and gave a soft groan.

There was movement. Then slender arms slipped around the warrior's body. Tara sat up abruptly, and found Epona crawling into her lap a moment later. She scowled down into the huge green eyes. "You're supposed to be sleeping."

A small hand stroked Tara's cheek. "You're hurting," the slave said softly.

The warrior's scowl deepened. "It doesn't matter. There's nothing we can do about that. Damned Amazons have my kit."

"Of course it matters." Epona leaned up to kiss Tara's frowning mouth. "Isn't there anything I can do, ma'am? Can't I find you some herbs, or something? I hate to see you suffering like this."

Tara sighed and gave in, letting the slave draw her head down to rest against her shoulder. It felt good to relax a bit, even if it didn't help the ache of her wound. "It's too dark to go plant hunting," she muttered. "We'll try to find some willow bark tomorrow, once the sun's up. Until then I just have to grit my teeth and bear it. I've had worse."

Very gently, Epona kissed the wounded shoulder. "I want to sit with you," she pleaded softly. "I don't want to sleep when you're hurting."

"There's no point in that. If you're not going to sleep, we should just ride," Tara growled. "The whole reason we stopped is so that you could rest, runty rodent. So just get your little bottom back in that bedroll before I spank it good."

"I'm resting." The slave girl's lower lip thrust outward, just a bit. "I can rest here just as easily as I can over there."

The warrior gritted her teeth. "Damn it, Epona, I'm too tired to argue about this. Just do as I say and quit pissing me off!" She pulled away from the girl's arms. "Go to bed and get a couple hours of sleep before we have to ride again."

The wide green eyes filled with tears. The slave slowly climbed out of Tara's lap. "Will you at least sit by me?" Epona pleaded. "Please. I don't want to be alone."

Tara softened, despite her suffering and anxiety. _Come on, you old bitch. Ease up on her a little. She's been through a lot, and she's just a kid._ She reached out, grasped the girl by the scruff of her neck, and pulled her in to roughly kiss her forehead. "All right, _beag luch,"_ she said quietly. "You can bring your bedroll over here if you like. But you have to go to sleep, then. Understand?" The slave smiled, nodded, and went to fetch her bedding.

Although Tara would never admit it, she'd missed the little scamp, and it was comforting when Epona lay down beside her. She gazed down quietly, watching as the slave snuggled under her blanket and closed her eyes. One of her hands drifted down to absently stroke the dark curls. Epona smiled sleepily, but didn't look up. _She's a good kid,_ Tara mused, her eyes softening. _She's a damn good kid. And it took some stones to cut that arrow out of me, really. I'm glad those Amazons didn't hurt her._

…Which brought her mind back to Drea. The warrior's brows lowered as she continued to sort through Epona's black hair. _I owe that woman a debt now,_ she vowed silently. _If we ever encounter each other again, I won't go easy on her. I'll gut her like a pig, that I swear!_ Tara's lips curved slightly. _Of course, all that could be a moot point by now, depending on how Queen Valora and her minions reacted to losing their little kidnap victim. For all I know, Drea's already hanging by her neck from their city gate._ Gently, Tara drew the slave's curls back from her face and stroked her knuckles down the skin of her cheek. It felt good to touch her; it took Tara's mind off the dull ache of her shoulder. "Sleep well, little mouse," she murmured. Epona's lips twitched upward slightly. Small fingers curled into a soft fist, and then relaxed again.

Tara turned her gaze to the fire, letting her fingers rest atop the slave's soft black hair. _We'll have to restock somewhere. We need cloaks, and soap, and provisions…a whole lot of stuff. And they took my money, so we won't be able to do it legally._ She chewed her lip. _Best to do it before we get to Romus, then. I don't want to risk either of us getting crucified. The next town we see, I'll leave the squirt somewhere and go take what we need. No sense putting her in danger again._ She shifted her weight, and grimaced against the wave of pain that followed. _Ah! Damn it all._ Before she could stop herself, Tara sucked in a sharp breath.

Instantly, Epona's eyes opened and peered worriedly up at her. Tara shot her a warning look. The slave bit her lip, thought for a moment, and then wriggled up until her head was resting in the warrior's lap. With a sigh of satisfaction, Epona closed her eyes again. Her small hand lay against Tara's thigh.

The redhead looked down at the girl in disgust and amusement. She considered complaining about this encroachment on her personal space, but then relented with a sigh as she studied the peaceful little face. Tara had to admit that the contact felt good. She examined the slender fingers that rested on her leg and began to trace them softly with the tip of her own. She felt drawn to touch – to caress – to hold. Tara's brow wrinkled. _None of my slaves have ever had this effect on me. Gods, none of my lovers have ever had this effect on me!_ She wondered what it was, and what it meant. It felt both exhilarating and terrifying, as if she were plunging headfirst off a cliff into the unknown. Strange.

Very like some of the love poetry she'd read once, now that she thought about it.

Tara laughed at herself. _Oh, come off it. Everyone knows you don't even have a heart, you old war bitch. Of course you like touching the runt – she's your cute little love slave, what else would you do with her?_ She very gently began to thread her fingers through Epona's hair again, and was rewarded with another soft sigh.

The night wore on. The warrior watched the fire and listened in silence. The only sound was the crackling of the flames and the soft breathing of the girl who lay asleep on her lap. It was peaceful. Tara wished that she, too, could rest; she was weary. But even if they weren't in danger, she doubted that her throbbing shoulder would have let her fall asleep. She pinched at the bridge of her nose. _All right, Tara. Just keep it together. The kid doesn't know what to do, so you've got to take care of her. There'll be time to rest and heal up later._

And, speaking of time… Tara glanced up at the moon, which was just visible through the canopy of foliage overhead. She judged they'd been camped for about four hours; they had to move on. She looked down at the peacefully-sleeping slave and felt a small pang of regret. Nevertheless, Tara shook Epona's shoulder a bit. "Hey. Wake up, squirt. It's time to go."

Soft, sleepy eyes blinked up at her. "Already?"

"Afraid so," Tara said gruffly. "C'mon, let's move." Then, after a brief hesitation, "If you like, you can ride with me and sleep on Cerberus."

Epona sat up and yawned hugely. "Sleep on horseback, ma'am?" Her brow furrowed. "Wouldn't I fall off?"

"Not if I was holding on to you, no." The warrior shot her a wicked grin. "So you better be nice to me." She chuckled at the sleepy befuddlement on Epona's face and turned away to begin packing up their few things. "Go get Bram ready. I'll handle Cerberus."

It took a bit longer than usual for Tara to harness the big warhorse. She couldn't use her left arm to lift anything or work above her head, and her fingers were unusually clumsy in her work. The final buckle – the one that fastened around his girth to hold the saddle in place – stymied her. Tara scowled over it, and managed to hook it closed, but couldn't seem to tuck the loose length of strap back into the buckle. She tried again, and again, but pain and exhaustion and frustration were working against her. She was just about to give it up in pure disgust when small fingers insinuated themselves beneath hers. Tara watched in surprise and disbelief as Epona quietly finished tightening the buckle for her. "I'm done," the slave said softly then, turning away to grasp Bram's bridle. "What do you want me to do now?"

Tara wanted to be angry with Epona for presuming to take over for her, but she couldn't really find the energy for it. Instead she simply frowned. "I didn't ask for your help, slave."

"No, ma'am." The smaller girl peered at her through her lashes. "Are…are you angry with me?"

The warrior snorted and turned to put her foot into a stirrup. "I would be, if I had the strength or the time. Lucky for you, I don't." Tara climbed awkwardly into the saddle, took up the reins, and looked down at the crestfallen girl. "Well? Are you getting up here, or not?"

"Yes, ma'am." Epona looked relieved. She handed up Bram's reins and made a brave attempt to climb up onto the warhorse's back. Cerberus, unfortunately, was far too large for Epona to mount him easily. Tara caught the back of the girl's tunic with her right hand to save her from falling. With much effort from Epona, and some judicious tugging by Tara, the little slave finally managed to take her seat in front of her owner.

Tara shivered a bit as they started out. "First village or city we come to, I'm getting some decent clothes to wear," she growled. "These Amazon rags are just about useless."

"Oh, I don't know. They look kind of nice." Epona gave her an innocent smile. "But I guess they're not too warm, huh?"

The warrior scowled. "Smart mouth." The slave giggled softly. "Just for that, I'm getting you an outfit like this one, and making you wear it the minute it gets cold." She dealt Epona's leg a little smack.

"Only if you promise to wear yours, too." The girl snuggled down against Tara's body and gave a huge yawn. "I'm tired."

"Sleep, then. We'll be riding for a while. No point in you staying awake during that – I'm the one steering, after all." Tara looked indulgently down at Epona as she rested against her and closed her eyes. "Hey." The green eyes opened a crack and peered back up at the warrior. "You did a good job cutting that arrow out of me. You were pretty brave. Good work, little mouse."

Epona shivered. "Thanks," she whispered, closing her eyes again. "I'm just glad you're all right, ma'am."

Tara grimaced, and wondered if she really was "all right," but said nothing. The slave's muscles gradually relaxed, until finally she was asleep in Tara's arms as they rode together through the early morning mists.


	40. Chapter 40

Sometimes it was really hard to know what to do.

Epona sat perched on a log, her brow furrowed and her fingers twisting together in her lap. They had ridden all that day, stopping only twice to water and rest the horses, and into the next night. About two hours ago Tara had stopped once more. She'd wanted to rest briefly and then press onward until the wee hours of the morning. But that hadn't really panned out.

Nervously, the little slave glanced over to where the warrior lay asleep. The woman had seated herself beneath a tree on a mossy spot and rested her head back against the accommodating trunk. She'd been unconscious less than five minutes later. Over time, her body had slumped over, until Epona had gently eased her down onto the turf. Biting her lips, Epona looked around. If they were really going to stop for the night, she should rub down the horses and build a cookfire. If not, she should shake her volatile owner awake. But which was the right decision? _She wanted to ride on. She'll be angry with me if I set up camp after she told me we were moving. But…but she hasn't slept in days, and she's injured. I can't wake her up, now that she's finally resting!_

The small girl slowly got up and moved over to kneel at Tara's side. The woman was deeply asleep, her head pillowed on a small hummock of moss. Epona had dug their blanket out of a saddlebag and covered her with it. Now she carefully slipped a corner of it up to cover the sleeping woman's naked shoulder. With a sigh, Epona sat back on her heels and regarded her owner. _If I don't wake her up, she'll be angry, and she might beat me. If I do wake her up, she'll be cranky and upset that I didn't wake her earlier, and she might beat me._ She searched her conscience, and finally made her decision. _I'll let her sleep. Tara needs rest, whatever she says. And if she hits me for that, then…well, then she hits me._ Quietly, Epona got up to set up their camp.

Bram was fairly easy to care for. Cerberus frightened Epona a little, since he was so huge and strong, but he seemed to know that the small girl was a friend. He stood quietly for his grooming. Epona had to make him lie down and climb up on a stump to reach parts of him, but she finally managed the task, and got both horses tethered for the night. Then she laid out the bedrolls and built a small pit for their fire. It didn't take too long to find enough fallen tinder and branches to burn. The slave girl took the well-worn flint and steel from Tara's pouch and, after a few attempts, managed to get the fire going. Then she banked it carefully so that it wouldn't go out while they slept.

Now that the work was done, Epona found herself very tired. She put everything away neatly, the way she knew Tara liked it. Then she paused. She would have liked to crawl under the blanket with her owner, since the warmth and contact made her feel safer, but she didn't want to wake the woman. By way of compromise, Epona dragged her bedroll over beside Tara and lay down there, scooting over as close as she dared. Then, with a weary sigh, the slave rested her head on her arm and closed her eyes.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

"What in blazes is going on?"

Sunlight dazzled Epona's eyes. She squirmed and yelped softly in surprise as a strong hand caught her by the collar. She was shaken hard! Gasping, the slave blinked up into the blazing brown eyes of her mistress. Epona stammered in her confusion. "Wh-what's happening? What did I do?"

"What did you _do?"_ Tara snarled and shook her again. "You let me fall asleep. You bloody let me fall asleep, and then you not only didn't wake me, you fucking set up camp! What the hell's _wrong_ with you, you stupid little slug? Don't you realize we've got a gods-be-damned Amazon nation breathing down our necks?"

A hard slap fell across Epona's cheek. The slave cried in pain. The memory of the night before came flooding back. "M-ma'am, please," she begged, as Tara's right hand curled into a fist she remembered only too well. "Please! I d-didn't know what to do. You're hurt, and you were tired…the…the horses were tired. I didn't want to wake you." The fist rose up, and Tara's face twisted into an angry snarl. This was real anger, Epona realized with a rush of terror. This wasn't the warrior's customary grumpiness, or annoyance. The look in those brown eyes reminded the frightened slave of how Tara had looked just before she'd half beaten her to death. "N-no, don't! Ma'am, please, have mercy!" Epona's voice rose to a wail of hopeless fear as Tara shoved her down to the ground.

And then, just like that, it stopped.

Epona lay sobbing and trembling in the grass, her face buried in her arm. She flinched a few times under phantom blows. Then the powerful hand that held the scruff of her neck twitched – twitched, and released. Tremulously, the weeping slave lifted her eyes.

Tara was standing not far from her. She was turned mostly away from Epona, but the slave could see her profile; the woman's face was red with anger. She could see Tara's teeth gritting as her fists clenched and unclenched. Abruptly, those blazing eyes pinned Epona again. "Don't move," the warrior snapped. "Understand?" The slave's breathing stopped. Shaking in every limb, Epona nodded. Tara spun on her heel and stalked off into the woods without saying another word.

The slender girl stared after her in alarm and confusion. _Where's she going? Is…is she going to get a stick to beat me with?_ But there were several branches nearby that Epona thought would have done the job, if Tara had wanted. The slave lay very still, terrified to so much as twitch a limb. The seconds stretched out interminably.

It was nearly ten minutes before Tara strode back into camp. Epona cringed a little as the woman's hand closed on the scruff of her neck again. The slave was hauled up onto her knees. She peered at Tara fearfully. What she found wasn't exactly encouraging, but it wasn't too discouraging, either. The woman's expression was still hard and angry, but at least it wasn't the icy mask of fury it had been before. "What were you thinking, you blithering little idiot?" Tara demanded. "Why didn't you wake me up?"

"Because you were so tired, ma'am," Epona whispered. "And you're hurt. I…I just wanted to take care of you, like I'm supposed to."

Tara gave an exasperated sigh. "Look, we're on the run, all right? You don't know what that means. I do. I've had a lot of experience with things like this over the years. When I give you instructions, they're not suggestions. Do you hear me?" The slave nodded miserably as tears flowed down her cheeks. "Do you understand why I'm so angry with you? We've lost time now. Worse than that, we were completely unguarded for five or six hours. If someone had attacked us, we'd be dead. _Dead,_ Epona!"

The slave sobbed. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you angry. Please, don't hurt me."

Something flickered over Tara's face. Her callused fingers brushed lightly over the cheek she had slapped earlier. "I won't," she said quietly. "You damn well deserve it, but…I won't." Epona stared at her, still choking on her own sobs. "Did you at least take care of the horses properly before you went to bed?"

"Yes'm," Epona managed through her tears. "I brushed them both down and tethered them in spots with grass. I didn't take them to drink because you did that before you fell asleep."

"Good. At least you did something right." Tara released her and rose to her feet. "Go get Bram ready. We're riding again."

"Okay." The slave miserably went to do as she was told. She was relieved that Tara wasn't going to beat her, but she was still upset. Her fingers shook as she harnessed Bram. The horse whickered and nuzzled the front of her tunic. A shaky smile curved the slave's lips. She stroked his soft nose. "I'm sorry, I don't have any apples for you," she murmured. "And if we find any, I probably won't be able to give 'em to you, boy. We can't eat grass like you can, you know." He huffed, his breath gusting in her hair and tickling her ear. Epona couldn't help giggling. She leaned forward and threw an arm around his neck. Her forehead rested against his warm shoulder. "At least you're not mad at me," she murmured. Tears stung her eyes again.

"Hey. Quit standing around and do something useful, slave." Tara's harsh voice cut into Epona's thoughts. The small girl started away from the horse as if she'd been stung. _I hate it when Tara calls me that,_ she thought mournfully. _It usually means she's mad._ Hastily, Epona scuttled to where she'd left their bedding and began to roll it into neat bundles. Tara, who had been standing by Cerberus with a scowl, slowly turned back to her own work.

In a very few minutes, the two had packed up their camp. Without looking at Epona, the warrior swung up into her warhorse's saddle. The movement was a little clumsier than it once had been, but she didn't seem to be in quite as much pain as she had been the day before. _At least that's good,_ the slave thought. Then hard, brown eyes caught hers. "Well? Get moving. Haven't you lost us enough time already?"

The harsh words made blocks of ice form in the pit of Epona's stomach. She nodded and climbed up onto Bram's back. Tears kept blurring her vision; she mopped her eyes with her sleeve, letting her horse follow after Cerberus on his own.

Hours passed slowly. Neither warrior nor slave spoke as they traveled down the deserted dirt road. _Stupid. I should've known enough to just do what she told me._ Epona couldn't shake the deep misery that kept sweeping over her. _Hasn't she told me a thousand times? Just do as you're told, Epona. She's right. I am just a stupid slug. We could have been caught…we could've been killed, and it would have been my fault._ She couldn't restrain a little sob at the thought. _All I have to do is keep one woman happy, and I can't even do that._

Tara looked back and scowled at her. The slave hung her head. There was silence for a few moments more, broken only by the hoofbeats on the packed earth. "Let's stop for a few minutes," came the warrior's gruff voice. "It's about lunchtime, and we haven't eaten for a while."

It was good to sit down on the side of the road. Epona watched sadly as Tara dug out a small satchel and sat down beside her. They had little in the way of food – just a couple of roasted roots, and a handful of wild berries that the slave had found the day before. The warrior divided them in half and thrust Epona's ration into her hands. "Eat," she said curtly, and bit into one of her own roots.

As hungry as she was, Epona didn't really feel like eating – her belly was tied up in knots. She nibbled dutifully on her berries. All she really wanted to do was crawl into a corner somewhere and cry. She could feel her owner's disapproving gaze. Slowly, she raised wet green eyes to meet hers. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

Tara gazed at her in silence for a moment or two. Then she sighed deeply and reached out an arm. "C'mere." Epona didn't wait for a better invitation. The slave dove into Tara's arms with a choked sob, resting her forehead against the smooth breastplate. She clung to the warrior with both arms. Tara's strong fingers began to thread through her hair. Epona shivered in delight at the feeling; she loved it when Tara did this. It made her feel like the woman might really like her, even if only as a little pet. "Look," the warrior said, "let's just let this whole thing go, all right? It's no good me snarling and you being miserable if we're going to go all the way up to Gaelis together. So I'll promise to stop being a bitch if you promise to stop crying. Deal?"

"O-okay." Epona sniffled a bit. "But I really am sorry, ma'am. I didn't know what to do. I just wanted to take care of you."

The redhead sighed. Epona looked timidly up at her, and found that Tara was smiling quietly. "You do," the warrior said, slipping her fingers beneath the slave's chin. "You take good care of me. You don't need to apologize for that." She leaned forward and kissed Epona's mouth with surprising tenderness. The slave shivered and closed her eyes. She could taste the berries on Tara's lips. Then she was pressed into the woman's body again, her head clasped against a broad shoulder by a strong, callused hand.

Epona slid her small fingers gently over the firm muscles of Tara's bare arm. "Do you forgive me, then, Tara?" she whispered.

The warrior gave a huff of laughter. "We'll call it a yes." She tugged Epona's head back gently to look at her. "We're on a first name basis, now, are we?" she asked, raising one sardonic brow. "You've been with me that long?"

Bewildered, the slave stared at her for a moment. Then she suddenly realized that she'd called the woman by her name – and, worse than that, that she'd done it before. Epona felt her face flush scarlet with embarrassment. "I…I'm sorry, ma'am. I wasn't thinking. I didn't mean it."

"Didn't you?" Tara's lips curved upward slightly. "Are you sure, Epona?" Then, as the small girl opened her mouth to speak, Tara held up a finger. "The truth, now."

What was the truth? The slave blinked at her for a while. Then, cautiously, "I…I like your name."

The redhead chuckled, long and low. "I was right. You." She tweaked Epona's nose. "Are trouble. But at least you're cute."

"I am?" Epona's eyes widened.

"You are." Tara settled her more firmly in her arms and grinned at her. "Tell you what, you scamp. You can call me by my name when we're alone, if I'm in a good mood. But you'd better not do it in front of anyone else, little mouse, or I'll spank your saucy tail for you. Got me?"

_Little mouse._ Epona nearly wriggled with happiness. Tara really wasn't angry anymore; she never called her that when she was angry. She snuggled down in the woman's arms with a little smile. She felt Tara chuckle again. "Now," the warrior said, poking her nose one more time, "you're going to eat your roots. I can just about count your ribs through your shirt already, and I won't have you wasting away in front of my eyes." The slave obediently went back to eating her small ration.

When they went back to the horses, Epona hesitated. She watched Tara swing herself up onto the big warhorse. She was an intimidating sight up there, all gleaming armor and red hair and wild eyes. The warrior looked down and raised a brow at her; Epona shifted nervously. "Can I ride with you, please, Tara?" she ventured.

Tara's brows lifted a bit higher. "Don't you like Bram anymore?"

"Well, yes. I do like him." Epona shuffled her feet a bit. "I just feel a lot safer when I can feel you," she admitted. Her cheeks grew warm.

"Ah." The Gael smiled gravely. She glanced out at the road, and then back down at the nervous slave. "All right," she said, extending her right hand. "Give me his reins and let me have your hand, you skinny little squirt. There's a lot of ground to cover between here and Romus." Epona did as she was told. Tara's grip was strong and sure as she fairly hauled her up into the horse's saddle. The slave settled back against her with a little sigh of contentment, and they set out again, following the road westward.


	41. Chapter 41

Of all the damnable fools in the world, Epona had to be the biggest – with the exception of the big lug who hadn't beaten her for it. Tara examined her blade ruefully, noted its perfect sharpness and gleaming metal, and began to sharpen and polish it anyway. It was a ritual she performed sometimes just to calm down her nerves and help her to think. And tonight she thought that maybe she needed the help.

Her eye strayed across the campfire to the girl who was quietly preparing their small meal. Tara had managed to shoot a rabbit that afternoon from horseback, and the two of them had foraged for a few edible greens. Since they lacked a cookpot, Epona had skewered the rabbit on a stick and roasted it over the coals, and they would have to eat the greens raw, but it was better than nothing. The smell of the cooking meat made Tara's mouth water. She disregarded this and studied the slave's face.

What had happened that morning disturbed her. It wasn't so much that Epona had let her sleep that night. That she understood – the girl was foolish, and had put more weight on her owner's weariness than on the angry warriors who were pursuing them. No. That had made Tara angry, but it hadn't disturbed her. Nor had her subsequent fit of rage given her pause. Epona had done something incredibly foolish, and she would have deserved any beating Tara might have given her for it.

No. What had disturbed Tara was what had happened when she started to give that beating. She had caught Epona by the scruff of her neck and lifted her fist to deal out the punishment the slave so richly deserved. Epona had cried and begged for mercy, which wasn't unexpected. Tara had forced the girl down on the ground. And then, just as she'd been about to slam her fist into Epona's ribs, something had arrested her attention.

It had been Epona's small hand. Not the one the slave was covering her face with – the other one, the one groping helplessly at the iron grip on the back of her neck. Tara's furious gaze had fallen upon it. She'd frozen then, staring down at the delicate little fingers, and the bandage that was still wrapped around the slender forearm. _I broke that arm,_ Tara thought numbly. _It still hurts her. I did that._

And suddenly the warrior found herself thinking about that same little hand stroking her face, and preparing her meals, and clinging to her back and shoulders during their lovemaking. The force of Tara's fury was unabated, but it was now battling something else. _I…don't….want…to hurt her. I can't…_ Her hands had twitched as the internal battle was waged. And then Tara had somehow managed to force her hand to release. She'd turned away, afraid that if she looked at the girl again, she'd lose control of her fury. She could remember snarling something at Epona before charging off into the woods to vent her ire.

A few minutes of sprinting and beating on a tree trunk with a stout limb had worked off the worst of Tara's temper. By the time she had returned to where the slave lay, the warrior had been able to take control of the situation without pounding the girl to a pulp.

That, Tara decided now, was good. They were on the run, after all. It would have been incredible stupidity to beat Epona again – they had no healer's kit, no money, and no decent food. And besides, while the slave had done something incredibly stupid, Tara didn't think she'd done it with any malice.

It was that moment that bothered Tara now – the instant when she'd stared down at that dainty little hand, and suddenly found herself unable to punish her slave. _I couldn't do it,_ Tara thought darkly. _I absolutely couldn't bring myself to hit her. Why? She deserved it. I should have whipped her a little when I got back, once I got my temper in check. I should whip her now. But I couldn't then, and I can't now. Why?_ She scowled down at her gleaming sword.

Shuffling footsteps approached, and Epona knelt down at her feet, holding up the skewered rabbit and a portion of greens displayed on a piece of bark. Tara took it, eyed the meat, and glanced at her quizzically. "Don't you want some?" she asked.

Epona gave a timid smile and bowed her head. "You need it more," she said softly. "You're bigger than I am, and you're still wounded." Moss-green eyes peered up again. "Did you hurt it when you went after me, ma'am? Do you want me to wash it and tie it up for you?"

"Later. Once we've eaten." Tara tore the rabbit in two and pushed the larger half into the small hands. "Eat," she said gruffly. "You need it more. You were sick not so long ago, you're not as used to the trail as I am, and you're injured yourself. Doesn't your arm still bother you?" Epona bit her lip and ducked her head. "Eat, you," Tara growled. "Don't make me get upset." And she sheathed her sword with emphasis.

The slave began to nibble obediently. The two of them ate in companionable silence. They wouldn't be able to camp long, and it would still be well over a week before they could breathe easy on a northbound ship, but the place felt peaceful.

Tara continued to puzzle fruitlessly over her failure to punish the girl. _Epona has some strange effect on me. Like in that battle, when I saw her go down. I just threw myself in the middle of a deathtrap to get her out. Really, that was stupid – I could have been, should have been killed. And walking right into that Amazon camp? Rank stupidity. I should've just cut my losses, gotten a new horse, and moved on. That would have been the smart thing to do. Why does she matter so much? Why do I even care?_

"Ma'am…Tara?" The warrior turned her head to find Epona gazing at her. The slave shuffled closer until she was sitting between Tara's knees and rested her cheek against one powerful thigh, peering up into her brown eyes. "How come you didn't beat me?"

Tara arched a brow. "Do you want me to change my mind? You were begging me not to earlier."

"Yes. Of course." Epona's gaze didn't waver. "But I've pleaded with you not to hurt me before, and you still almost beat me to death. This time you didn't do it, and I did something pretty dumb. I even kind of disobeyed you. Why didn't you hit me?"

"It'd be pretty stupid to make you an invalid right when we need to move quickly, don't you think, _beag luch?"_ Tara said quietly. "I'm not a fool."

"Is that the only reason?" Epona asked. "You just didn't beat me up and crack my ribs and break my arm again because then I'd slow you down?" Her pale brow wrinkled. "Is that really all it was?"

The warrior scowled at her with growing irritation. "I answered the question. Why do you think I didn't, runty rodent? Should I tell you I didn't whip you because you're secretly the rightful queen of Persia, and I don't want you to cut off my head?" She lightly cuffed the slave girl's ear. "Don't be a numbskull."

Epona rubbed the side of her head. Her lower lip thrust out slightly. "No. I just…I thought maybe you didn't want to hurt me anymore."

This was dangerous. Tara frowned deeply. _Can't have her thinking like that. I'm the master, here!_ "Whether I happen to like you or not, you're my slave, and you are bound to do as I tell you," she snapped. "And if you disobey me, or do stupid things, you can expect to be punished. Is that clear?" Epona winced and shrank back visibly. She pulled away from Tara's leg and bowed her head. "Don't go thinking that I'm turning into some kind of a marshmallow just because I spared you one thrashing," Tara growled. The hurt expression on Epona's face sent a pang through Tara's heart. Baring her teeth, the warrior looked away. "Go to bed," she ordered.

"Yes, ma'am." Epona lifted her head. "Do you want me to take care of your shoulder or clean up supper first?"

Oh. Right. Tara scratched her ear and scowled awkwardly. "Well, yes. Yes, clean up first," she grumbled. She watched darkly as Epona wiped the knife she'd used to prepare the meat. _Hera's tits, what's wrong with me? I swear I'm losing my mind._ Her eyes followed the slave as she worked.

Then Epona knelt down at her feet and laid a little paw on the warrior's knee. "Will you come with me to the water, ma'am?" she asked softly. "Then I can wash your bandages and things."

"Fine." Tara rose to her feet and followed the girl down to the spring. It flowed sluggishly, but its water was clear and clean. The warrior sat down and glowered at the ground. After a moment, she felt Epona's delicate fingers unwinding the bandage from her wounded shoulder.

The thing still ached. The pain probably accounted for part of her current bad humor, Tara admitted to herself. Although it was certainly bearable, its persistent throbbing was a constant drain on her strength. She watched as Epona dipped the long strips of cloth in the water and scoured them with stones. She noted that the girl still favored the arm she had broken, and felt a pang of something like guilt. "Does it hurt a lot, ma'am?" the slave asked softly, looking at her through her lashes.

"What?" Tara was confused for a moment. "Oh. My, uh…my shoulder. Right." She cleared her throat. "It's not too bad. I've had worse."

Epona spread out the bandages on a flat stone to dry. "Let me wash it," she said, grasping Tara's right hand and giving it a light tug in the direction of the spring. "We have to keep it clean, right?"

"That's right, little field medic." The touch of the dainty little hands was beginning to dispel Tara's grumpy mood. She allowed herself to be pulled down beside the water.

Then Epona bent over her and shyly began to untie the laces that held Tara's brief Amazon tunic on. The warrior's enjoyment grew. She leaned back and watched Epona's absorbed little face with some amusement. _Is she blushing?_ Tara looked closer. _She so is. Gods, the kid's so damned cute!_ The laces gave way. The slave carefully drew off the garment and, folding it neatly, laid it aside. "Okay," Epona said softly, drawing a deep breath. "Now, I…_eep!"_ Tara's strong arms had caught the slave around the waist and swept her into her lap. The smaller girl squirmed and giggled as callused fingers found sensitive spots along her ribcage. "N-no fair! You're bigger than me, I can't…" And she dissolved into fits of laughter as Tara increased her assault.

"D'you give up?" The redhead gave a wicked grin as Epona tried to wriggle away. She pinned her down and mercilessly tickled the backs of the slave's knees. Epona squealed helplessly. "Well, do you?"

"Yes, yes! Please, stop," the slave begged, falling into fresh fits of laughter as Tara attacked her belly. "I give, I give!" Chuckling triumphantly, the warrior sat back. Her grip gentled, until she was simply holding Epona as she would have held a child in her lap. The sparkling green eyes peered up at her. "What was that for?"

Tara shrugged a bit uncomfortably. "Beats me. Just felt like doing it." A hint of her wicked smirk hovered about her lips as she lifted her hand and wriggled her fingers a little more. "Want to make something of it?"

"No." Epona squirmed and reached out to grasp the fingers in an effort to save herself. "Please, no more, I'm really ticklish!"

"I noticed." The warrior relaxed her hand and let Epona hold it. She was once more conscious of the need to touch her slave. She bent her head down to nip at the side of Epona's neck. The texture of the skin fascinated her. She felt the slave shiver and lean into her as she slowly drew her lips down to the girl's shoulder. "Do all noblewomen have skin as soft as yours?" she murmured.

"I don't know. I haven't touched very many," Epona said gravely.

The warrior laughed shortly. Then, reluctantly, Tara released her grip on the slave's body. She snuck in one last, gentle nibble to a handy earlobe. "All right. Enough silliness, now. You're supposed to be tending to my hideous and incredibly painful battle wound, _beag luch._ Let's go."

"Okay." Epona crawled out of her lap. "Lie down so I can wash it."

"Oo. Getting bossy, now, are we?" Tara grinned and lay down on her belly amiably.

The little slave blushed and hesitated, then dipped up a handful of water and began to bathe the warrior's shoulder. It stung; Tara closed her eyes and shut her mouth tightly. Epona's hands were gentle as she washed the wound. "I think it's still bleeding sometimes," the slave said softly after a while. "And it looks sort of red."

Tara grunted and turned her head to look at her. "Red, hey? Red as in infected, or just red as in injured?"

Epona's brow creased. "I don't think it's infected," she said slowly, still washing it. "It's just such a big hole that it's taking a long time to close." She stopped and stroked Tara's skin. Then she bent forward. Tara felt Epona's lips press lightly against her shoulder, just above the dull ache of the wound. The warrior's eyes opened wide, and she turned to look at the slave in bemusement. Epona's mouth curved into a shy smile. "I was kissing it better," she whispered.

"Kissing it…" Tara felt a sudden surge of exasperation. "Damn it, Epona, I'm the Terror of fucking Gaelis, not some three-year-old with a splinter!"

"I know." The slave girl kissed it again, unrepentantly. "But I don't have herbs and things for it, so it'll have to do." She took up the bandages and made a face. "They're still kinda wet. Would you rather sleep without your shoulder tied up, or should I just put them on damp like this?"

The warrior shook her head. "Leave them. It might do it some good to get aired out a bit."

"Do you want me to get you anything?" Innocently.

"I want you." Tara couldn't help grinning at the startled blush that washed across Epona's face at this. She tugged the girl into her lap one more time, and relished the slim arms that encircled her waist. "Wish we weren't on the run. I'd make you squeak all night, little mouse." She swallowed Epona's giggle with a fervent kiss. "Can't, though," she mumbled against the slave's lips. "Have to stay alert."

A curly head rested against her shoulder, and Epona sighed. "I miss you, Tara," the slave said mournfully. "At night, I mean. It's kind of cold without you."

"Yeah. Life's a bitch." Tara tousled the dark locks. "We'll be in Romus in ten days or so, and we should be on a ship a couple days after that. Then we can make up for lost time, pretty girl." She kissed the slave again, savoring the taste of her, before releasing her again. "Now, to bed with you. I mean it this time."

"Yes, ma'am." And, with one more, feather-light kiss to the tip of Tara's nose, Epona went.


	42. Chapter 42

Tara had never been so happy to see a town in all of her life.

It was only a small settlement – probably had a population of less than three hundred, she estimated, her gaze moving over the buildings thoughtfully. But these were Sarmatians, not Argonians; at least half of the villagers would be capable fighters, if not career soldiers. Tara grimaced. She was never one to back down from a fight, but if she was caught stealing in this place, it could get very ugly very quickly, and it might well be more than even she could handle. _Especially with the way my damn shoulder still aches. And it sure as hell would be more than a certain little rodent could take._ Her eyes moved down to the girl standing at her elbow.

Epona was peering down at the village below, her eyes as bright and inquisitive as a bird's. "I've never seen a Sarmatian town before," she said. "Can I really not come?" Plaintively.

"I don't tell you things just to hear myself talk," Tara growled. The little slave's obvious disappointment was irritating her. "We're not on a pleasure cruise. I'm going in there to get what we need, and I'm going to have to steal it, so it'll be far too dangerous for a little squirt like you. Just stay here with Cerberus and keep out of trouble until I get back." Epona's shoulders slumped, and Tara sighed. "There'll be more villages," she said. "I'll show you plenty of interesting things once we don't have an army of Amazons tracking us down, all right? For now, just stay here."

"Okay." Epona sat down and hugged her knees in a resigned sort of way.

"And don't forget to stay hidden," Tara warned as she swung herself into Bram's saddle. "Keep out of sight, and keep Cerberus quiet if you can. I want you safe, so no gallivanting around on the road or something. And stay alert. If things go sour, you need to be ready to mount up and run hard. Understand?"

"Yes, ma'am," the slave said quietly. "I'll watch for you."

It was going to be pretty much impossible for Tara to be inconspicuous. Even if she had chosen Bram, who was far less imposing than Cerberus, she was still a six-foot, red-haired warrior woman in Amazon clothing. Even in the darkness of the evening that was gathering around her, she was going to be noticed. Tara rubbed her eyes tiredly as she spurred her mount toward the village. "By Charon's damned spittle," she muttered. "I couldn't stick out more if I were painted blue and riding in on a bloody elephant."

_Well. No good brooding about that._ The warrior went over her mental checklist of what they needed_. A cookpot of some sort. Decent clothes for me, and cloaks for the both of us. Travel rations of some kind. A pair of boots for the kid. Money, if I can get it, to make getting on board ship in Romus easier. Soap. Oh, gods, soap!_ Tara nearly groaned. It had been a long time since she'd washed with anything but water. In many ways, she was still a wild Gael warrior; she still carried many of her homeland's attitudes and habits. But Tara had always hated being dirty, and she still did, even though she knew it was a rather ridiculous trait for a barbarian fighter to have.

She was approaching the outer limits of the town. There were no city walls; instead there was a wall of sharpened wooden stakes all around its perimeter, almost like a stockade. There were guards posted at the gates. They were armed with curved scimitars and wicked-looking spears. Tara carefully loosened her sword in its sheath before resuming her nonchalant air. She rode to within fifteen yards of them, and then reined Bram in. Weapons were pointed at her. "Who're you?" one of the guards growled, in heavily accented Argonian.

Tara paused for a moment to consider her strategy. "I am called Kellan," she said quietly, speaking in what broken Sarmatian she could remember. She'd opted for another name that had its roots in Gaelis, to avoid suspicion. "I look for a place to eat and spend the night. Have you an inn?"

Suspicious eyes took in her skimpy clothing. "You are Amazon."

The warrior inclined her head. "I am a new sister," she said, in a modest tone. "I travel to Romus to join an envoy of our fighters." This story, she hoped, would be enough to explain a Gael warrior in Amazon clothing who wore Argonian armor.

There was a pause; then the guard grunted and put up his spear. "Just don't cause any trouble, _sister,"_ he warned, speaking in Sarmatian now. "You're not the only warrior in this town."A threat. Tara's hackles rose, but she held herself tightly in check and simply nodded. The men moved out of her way. She spurred Bram forward and into the village.

As Tara rode, she found her mind drifting back to where she had left the small slave with Cerberus and what remained of their supplies. She scowled, resettling her armor on her shoulders absently. Whatever she'd said, she didn't really like leaving Epona unguarded like that. And, she suddenly realized, she hadn't inspected the saddle sores on the girl's thighs yet that day. They'd been healing fairly slowly, even with the infection gone, and Tara wanted to stay on top of them until she was sure they were no longer a threat. She scowled, sandy brows drawing low over her eyes. _Damn it. I meant to check those before I left her…_ Tara sighed and returned her attention to the task at hand. _No sense worrying about it now. At least she's resting, and she won't be in harm's way if this goes south. I'll take care of it when I get back._

The village wasn't hugely impressive – just a scant collection of huts and crudely-built, larger buildings. Tara rode silently past the inn, scouting it with sharp eyes. Since it was night, any market this place might have was closed, and the inn would probably be her best option. Most of what they needed could probably be scraped together there. Calmly, she spurred Bram farther down the road and found an out-of-the-way place to tether him. She quietly noted where the city gates were. Then, silently, she slipped down a back street and headed toward the inn again.

Despite Tara's height, she had long been both a soldier and a thief, and she was capable of stealth. She moved around to the back of the inn, studying the windows. There was a tree growing fairly close to one on the second floor. She paused, her keen eyes raking the area, and then moved over to the tree. One leap, and her hands caught the lowest branch; she pressed her body up onto it, flipped up onto the next branch, and rose to her feet. Once more, Tara looked around to see if anyone was watching. Then she peered into the window. She was in luck – the room on the other side of it was vacant. The flash of a dagger, the click of a latch, and she was inside.

It was a scruffy place, but it was mostly clean. Tara had seen far worse in her time. She gave a rueful half-smile as she slipped across the room and listened at the door. There was no sound from the hall. Noiselessly, she moved through the door into it, and tiptoed to the next room. Loud snores emanated from it; Tara slipped inside.

There wasn't much in the first room other than its snoring occupant. Tara took only a cloak. It was too small for her, and would be large on Epona, but it would be warm. The warrior made it into a bundle, tucked it under her arm, and moved silently up the hall to the next room.

_Ah. This is more like it._ Tara's eyes gleamed. This room's occupant was nowhere to be seen – probably still downstairs, enjoying the hospitality of the bar. _Looks like some big Romusian guy,_ she thought, rooting through his things. She found a long tunic that looked promising. Without preamble, Tara quickly shed the Amazon rags she was wearing and put on the tunic. It fell to just above her knees. _Perfect._ She tightened her belt around her waist and continued her search. _Ah – a cloak. That'll do._ The crimson cloth was soon slung over her shoulders. _Oh, look at that…_ Brown eyes sparkled. _Looks like our Romusian boy just stocked up on travel rations. I'm sure he doesn't need those as much as we do._

Whoever this man was, he was well-stocked. Tara got pretty much everything she needed, including a reasonably heavy money-pouch. This discovery made Tara quite cheerful; she tied it quickly onto her own belt and resumed her search. She opened a large, leather satchel. She paused. Her eyes moved slowly over gleaming metal. _Huh._ She paused again, thoughtfully. _Well, it might come in handy. Might as well_. Tara closed the satchel and slung it over her shoulder.

And then there were footsteps in the hall. Tara's eyes flew wide open! She snatched up a small cookpot that lay nearby, turned, and darted for the window. As she wrenched it open, she heard the doorknob turn. Shouts rang in her ears as she leaped out.

She managed to roll as she landed on the ground, but the shock of meeting the ground still hurt. Tara grimaced, scrambled up and started to run. _Apollo's spit! That's going to be stiff tomorrow_. She sprinted, her long legs eating up the distance with powerful strides. There was more shouting behind her. Tara doubted she had much time before the entire village was in an uproar. "Come on, Bram, boy," she said, quickly severing his tether and leaping into the saddle. "Let's go see Cerberus and Epona." She dug her heels into his sides, and he bolted toward the gate that led out of the town.

It was closed, of course. Tara could see the guards standing there. At her approach, they brandished their spears. She sighed and drew her sword; she suddenly missed the shield she'd left with her slave. "Well, hindsight is better, and all that," she grumbled, releasing the reins. The guards were braced, expecting her to rush them on horseback. At the last moment, Tara grabbed the shaft of an upraised spear, vaulted herself off Bram's back, and smashed into one of the soldiers!

The struggle didn't last long. The men were seasoned fighters, but Tara had the advantage in surprise and strength. She shoved the second man's crumpling body away from herself with a grunt and shoved the gate open. Bram tossed his head and nickered as she leaped into the saddle again. There were more shouts behind her – many shouts this time, from many throats – but Tara didn't look back. She kicked at her mount's sides as adrenaline coursed through her veins. "Yah!" she shouted, urging him to full speed. "Yaaah!"

_Boy, I hope that little runt didn't go and fall asleep or something. We're going to have to move._ Tara stole a glance over her shoulder after a minute or two. The village was far enough away to look like a toy in the darkness, but she could still make out the torches emerging from the gate, and the starkly-illuminated forms of the mounted horsemen who carried them. "Shit," she muttered, but her lips curved upward. She loved the thrill of a good battle, or a good chase. "Better be ready for me, Epona – here comes trouble!"

Wide green eyes looked up in startlement as Bram thundered into the clearing. Epona scrambled to her feet – Tara reined her mount in and sprang from the saddle. "Mount up," she barked. "Hurry!" Without waiting to watch Epona obey her, Tara leaped astride the broad, dark back of Cerberus. A moment later, they were thundering through the woods, bent low over their horses' necks.

They rode madly for some time. After a while, Tara pulled Cerberus back into a fast walk. Beside her, Epona did the same. There were no sounds from behind them; Tara suspected it would take their pursuers some time to catch up to them, since the area was dark and heavily wooded. She grinned and sat up in the saddle, casting a glance at her slave. "Good work staying alert," she said. "I don't think they'll chase us too far. I just robbed some Romusian guy…doubt these Sarmatians'll go to much trouble for him."

"You didn't get hurt, Tara?" There was concern in the pale little face that peeped over at her from Bram's back.

"Nope." The warrior shot her a smug smirk.

Solemnly, the smaller girl studied her. "Are you sure? You've got blood all over the front of your tunic."

Tara looked down. Crimson spatters marred the front of the light gray garment she'd taken from the inn. "Oh, that. It's not mine." Epona's brow wrinkled, and the warrior shrugged. "Had some issues with the guards, and had to leave in a hurry."

"Did you kill them?"

The question irritated Tara. _Self-righteous little chit_. She scowled at her slave. "Of course I did. What the hell else would I do?" Epona said nothing, merely lowering her gaze to Bram's neck. "Do you have a problem with that, slave?" Tara growled, her voice dropping to its lowest and most menacing register.

Green eyes slipped sideways to regard her. There was a pause. "I guess that depends," Epona said softly. "Do you want the truth, ma'am? Or do you want me to tell you what you want to hear?"

"Excuse me?" Tara twisted around in her saddle to pin the girl with both her eyes, which began to flash dangerously.

Epona flinched a bit, and her gaze dropped. "Do you want me to tell you the truth," she repeated, softer than before, "or do you want me to just give you what you want, ma'am?" She didn't meet her owner's gaze.

"Are you insinuating that you might lie to me?" The anger burned a little hotter, and Tara gritted her teeth.

"N-no," Epona said in a small voice. "I just…"

"Because if you are, you should know that I. Hate. Liars." The small girl said nothing, and Tara's eyes narrowed. "I also hate smart mouthed slaves." Epona was silent, her eyes riveted on her own hands. "That's right. You shut up," Tara growled. "And you just better keep your mouth shut for a while, unless you want me to break it." The slave girl flinched again, and seemed to shrink in on herself.

Well. That hadn't gone entirely as planned. Tara scowled to herself as she rode ahead. _Ungrateful, mouthy little twit,_ she groused. _If we didn't have to ride like hell right now, I'd tan her jacket but good._ Her grip tightened on the reins. _Maybe I still will, later._ And the panoply of stars wheeled slowly overhead as the two small figures continued their flight through the woods.


	43. Chapter 43

They had ridden the rest of the night, and all the next day. Now, at twilight, Tara was finally beginning to relax a little bit. She doubted the Sarmatians would follow them this far; it was now only the Amazons she was concerned about, and she thought they had probably put a fair amount of distance between themselves and their nearest pursuers. She gave a long, satisfied sigh and nibbled at the bread and cheese Epona had given her. Nearby, the slave was eating her own supper. Tara watched idly as the girl took another small, neat bite and chewed. Epona's manners amused her a little. Even sitting on a rock in the middle of the woods with some barbarian warrior, the slave still ate as if she were at a lord's table.

The smaller girl noticed the scrutiny. "Do you need me to do something for you, ma'am?" she asked softly.

"Nah." Tara leaned back against a tree trunk, took a large bite of bread, and grinned. "Just enjoying the scenery." Epona's cheeks flushed pink, and she looked away. Tara chuckled.

There was a pause. After a while, the slave finished her meal and dusted the crumbs off her hands. "Ma'am?" Tara looked up and raised her brows. "I didn't mean to make you angry before," Epona murmured. "You know, when we were riding." She hesitated. "Why were you so upset?"

It took a moment before the warrior remembered what the girl was referring to. "Oh, that." She eyed the slave for a moment or two. "Maybe you grew up in some kind of a little bubble," she said abruptly, "but this is the real world. The food you're eating and the clothes on your back were won for you by my sword, so I don't appreciate you moralizing at me, as if you knew a damned thing about it."

Epona blinked. "You mean when I asked you if you killed those guards?"

A grim smile twitched at Tara's mouth. "Don't play stupid and act as if you weren't going to preach, kid."

The slave lowered her eyes, fidgeting a bit with her hands. "Well," she said, "I probably would have said something." She hesitated. "I just don't like it when people get hurt," she said quietly. "That's all. I know you give me my food and clothes and things…I'm grateful for that, I really am."

"Are you, now?" Tara finished the last of her meal, licked her fingers, and settled back to regard her slave again. "That's smart. And I'll tell you what would be even smarter." Epona looked at her inquiringly, and the warrior flashed her a dangerous smile. "Not to moralize at me."

Epona fidgeted and bit her lip. "Okay."

Tara was tired of the conversation. She rested her head back against the bark of the tree and looked up. The canopy of leaves was thick – she could only see one small patch of night sky, with a single star twinkling faintly in it. She sighed. She missed the open skies. Her brown eyes sought out her slave again. It occurred to her that Epona had skills that she'd never utilized much. "Hey," she said gruffly, "c'mere and earn your keep, rodent. Tell me a story."

Moss-green eyes opened wide, startled. "A story?" Epona echoed.

"That's right. I never really sat down and listened to any of the ones you told when we were with Drea's camp." Tara yawned and stretched out her legs. "So tell me a story, little mouse-bard. Let's see if you're really any good."

Uncertainly, Epona crossed over to where her owner was and sat down at her feet. She fidgeted for a moment or two. "Um…do you want one of mine, or one that I've read before, ma'am?" she asked. Her cheeks flushed in the firelight.

_Will you look at that, the kid's nervous._ Tara felt a grin spread slowly across her face. _Gods, she's adorable_. "Well," she said out loud, "I've heard most of the ones you've read, I'd imagine. So maybe we'll go with one of yours." She paused and cocked a sandy brow at the slave. "But no 'Raven' stories, hm?"

The girl's blush grew deeper, and she ducked her curly head. "Okay," she said softly. "But those are the best kind, you know." Tara snorted and lay back again to wait. There was a pause as Epona collected her thoughts.

"Once, when the world was young, Zeus, the god of the skies, fell in love with Alcyone, a goddess of the oceans."

Epona's voice was good for storytelling, Tara thought lazily. It had a gentle quality that made it soothing to listen to, but still carried well, filling the woods around them as if it couldn't belong to something so small as the little slave at her feet. Tara listened with idle pleasure.

"He soon lost interest in her. But during the course of their courtship, Alcyone became pregnant, and she bore a beautiful daughter – Kalliste, the first of the sea nymphs."

The warrior thought she could remember Epona saying something about poetry once. She wondered idly if the slave girl was also a poet, or if she only used that of other bards. Would it really matter? Tara considered. _No. I'll get her to tell me some later, whoever wrote it._ The thought of the soft little voice reciting poetry made Tara smile, for some reason.

"Kalliste was lovely," Epona went on, her hands waving unconsciously as she illustrated her story by gesture. "She had hair as pale as foam and eyes as dark as the depths of the sea. She loved the twilight, when Apollo's chariot would touch the edges of both her father's and her mother's kingdoms. When evening fell, Kalliste would walk on the cliffs by the ocean and sing."

Pale hair? Interesting. Tara let her eyes half-close. If she'd been telling this story, she wasn't entirely sure that her paragon of beauty wouldn't have had black hair and green eyes, like a certain little bard she could name. She smirked at her own flight of fancy.

"One day, as Kalliste was singing to herself on the rocks, she was seen by Poseidon, the mighty god of the sea. He fell in love at once. Using his power, he changed himself into a sea serpent and went to the place where she was. Kalliste didn't see him until it was too late; he captured her, and took her down to his palace at the very bottom of the ocean."

Interesting how the girl was telling stories about an ocean she'd never even seen, by her own admission. The warrior found herself looking forward once more to showing Epona around once they got to Romus. Her lips curved. _I bet she tells a lot more ocean stories once she's actually seen it._

"Kalliste was heartbroken at being separated from her parents and her beloved oceanside cliffs," Epona went on. "She wept and wept and wouldn't even eat. Poseidon tried many things to gain her favor. He gave her many gifts from his treasures, but nothing could make Kalliste smile on him. She still cried for the family that she'd lost." The slave's voice suddenly quivered and broke.

Tara's eyes sharpened suddenly, and her head came up. Epona wasn't crying, but she'd stopped talking, and Tara could see her struggling with her emotion. She felt the faint burn of guilt. _Her family._ The warrior looked away with a frown. _The kid's probably thinking of her sister again. That Marcella._ She breathed deeply. _I wonder what it would be like to have family that you missed when they were gone?_ The thought was almost wistful.

After a minute or two, Epona's soft voice filled the silence again. "When Alcyone found out what Poseidon had done, she was very angry. She went to the top of Mount Olympus and asked Zeus for permission to rescue their daughter. Zeus granted it, and Alcyone went down into the depths of the sea to carry out her plan."

Guilt was an unpleasant sensation. Tara considered it silently, never taking her eyes from the slave's expressive face. _Why should I feel guilty? I didn't harm her Marcella. And even if I had, it was battle. People die on my sword all the time._ Her brown eyes narrowed. _Why should this be any different? What is it about this runty little twerp that does this to me?_

"Poseidon was too powerful for Alcyone to challenge him directly. She changed herself into a fish and sneaked into his palace that way. After many hours of searching, she finally found Kalliste in the room full of treasures where Poseidon had imprisoned her – but it was too late. The sea nymph had finally starved to death." Epona's restless fingers found a stick and began to stir absently at the coals of their fire. She gazed into them as if she were reading the story in the ashes. "Alcyone was overcome with grief. She picked up her daughter and took her to the cliffs that she had loved so much in life, and buried her there. And where Kalliste's body had been, a beautiful tree grew, with branches and leaves that drooped sadly down toward the waters that had spawned her. That's how the first weeping willow came to be." Epona's voice dropped until it was almost a whisper. "Until this day, the children of that willow hang their heads down, and think of the fate of their mother, and weep."

There was silence for a while. Tara scratched her jaw. "Not bad, _beag luch,"_ she said. "You made that one up yourself?"

"Yeah." The little slave looked at her. There were no more tears in her eyes, but she still looked heartbroken. "I'm pretty sure that Zeus and Alcyone never got together in the official stories. None of the ones that I've ever read, anyway."

"Kind of a sad story," Tara said gruffly. Epona shrugged one shoulder and poked at the fire again. The warrior considered her for a moment or two more, then sighed and gestured. "C'mere." Epona let the stick fall and moved to her side with an inquiring look. Tara grasped the slave's hand. With gentle tugs, she drew Epona down into her lap and pulled her against her chest. The girl huddled there silently. Tara brushed the pad of her thumb across Epona's cheekbone with unwonted gentleness. "It gets better with time," she said quietly. "Hurts less."

Epona drew a halting breath. "Does it?" she whispered plaintively.

"Might not seem like it now," the warrior said. "But yeah, it does." She felt Epona's small fist tighten on a handful of her tunic. The slave's body quivered. There were no audible sobs, but Tara felt a few hot tears soaking through the fabric. She held the small form in silence. After a while, Epona relaxed. Looking down, Tara saw that the slave's eyes were half shut. She thought she looked less miserable than before. "Doing all right now, squirt?"

The slave nodded a bit. "Better," she murmured.

"Good." Tara roughly tousled the black curls. "Time for bed. Go get some sleep while you can."

"Yes'm." Solemn eyes peered up at Tara. "Are you going to stay up all night and keep watch again?"

Tara's lips quirked. "I'll probably sleep a few hours," she said. "Never mind about me. I'm a big girl. I can take care of myself." Epona blushed and looked away. With a gruff laugh, Tara ruffled her hair again. "To bed, now. Sleep. I don't want to have to pour water on your head to wake you up in the morning, all right?" Epona nodded gravely and made her way over to her bedroll. Bracing her back against her tree, Tara settled in to watch for the night.


	44. Chapter 44

_I have to get control back_.

It was a thought that had been niggling at Tara for days, now. Being out of control wasn't a sensation she'd had to deal with much in her life, and it seemed like lately she'd felt nothing but. It wasn't that hard to put her finger on the source of the problem, either. _It's_ _that damned slave of mine_, she groused. _She's the one making me feel like this. It's got to stop._

Tara's brooding eyes sought out Epona. The warrior was sitting by the roadside, waiting as the slave prepared the midday meal. Tara watched darkly as Epona sorted out items from their food satchel. Epona seemed innocent of the scrutiny. _I've been letting her get away with far too much,_ Tara thought. _She's calling me by my first name…I let her off that whipping, the gods only know why, and now she's even starting to lip me off, like she did about those guards I killed. It's ridiculous. I have to deal with this impertinence. I'm her master, and damn it, she's going to treat me like one!_

Quietly, Epona knelt down at her feet and held out a chunk of bread and a piece of meat from their supper the night before. Tara took them in cold silence and began to eat. As the small girl stirred back toward the satchel, the warrior's head came up. "I didn't dismiss you," she said sharply. Epona stared at her in startled confusion for a moment, and then sank back down on her knees obediently, bowing her curly head. Tara ate. Then she thrust the bowl back into the slave's hands. "More," she barked. Epona looked at her quietly for a moment, and Tara thought she was going to object. She didn't, though; another bowl of food was soon laid in the warrior's lap. Tara ate quickly. "More," she growled again, jabbing her empty bowl at the girl like a weapon.

"I…don't think there's more meat," Epona said uncertainly. "Maybe if I just got you some more bread, Tara?"

"Don't call me by my name," Tara snarled. "You address me as your master, understand?"

"B-but…ma'am, you said…" The slave stared at her in bewilderment.

"I changed my mind." Tara waved her hand. "Get me more food!" There was unmistakable hurt in Epona's green eyes now, but she didn't protest. The warrior watched, scowling, as the slave tore another piece off their loaf and brought it to her. Tara ate it with wolfish bites. She could see the slave watching her warily.

_All right. I'd better lay this out properly, so she'll be sure to understand_. Tara finished her bread and leveled a stern look at Epona. "Go get me that satchel over there," she ordered, pointing at the bag she'd taken in the Sarmatian town. Without a word, the girl went to get it from the saddlebags and laid it at Tara's feet. A faint, metallic clink sounded as the satchel hit the ground. Grimly, the warrior opened it and lifted out links of chain. Dread and uncertainty showed suddenly in Epona's expressive face, and Tara felt a pang. She quickly pushed that back and caught the slave's eyes with her own. "I think you've been forgetting your place," she growled. "You've been calling me by my first name, questioning my decisions…you're obviously not remembering which of us is in charge."

Epona swallowed. "With…all due respect, ma'am, I'd never forget that," she faltered.

"In that case, it must be deliberate disrespect. Is that it?" Tara's gaze was steely, and Epona's dropped under it. "Fortunately, I found this at the inn, and I think it'll teach you a good lesson. Give me your hands." The slave silently presented her arms. Tara fastened the manacles around Epona's slender wrists. Then she lifted another piece of iron from the satchel. "Chin up," she said curtly. The girl complied, and Tara locked the heavy slave collar around her neck. A short chain then fastened the shackles to a ring in the collar. Epona huddled down when it was finished, the picture of misery and confusion. "Go sit over there," Tara ordered, pointing. "I'll free your hands if I decide I want you to do something." The slave obeyed in silence. Tara regarded the girl for a moment with some satisfaction.

It took a few minutes for the warrior to put Epona into Bram's saddle and tie his reins to those of Cerberus. Then Tara mounted her warhorse and spurred him forward. _This is better._ Despite the pangs of unreasonable guilt that occasionally needled her, Tara felt much more in control of the situation. She darted a glance at Epona after a minute or two. The slave was hunched miserably on her mount, her chained hands bunched at her chest as if she were praying. She wasn't crying; her green eyes were simply fixed on the ground, and her face was pale. The sight made Tara a bit uncomfortable. Scowling, the warrior turned back to the road. _It's not as if I beat her,_ she snarled at her conscience. _And even if I had, she'd have deserved it._

They rode on until nightfall; Epona didn't speak a word all that day. Both of them remained silent as Tara set up their campsite and laid out her bedroll. She didn't bother spreading out Epona's. The slave watched this operation quietly, and then looked up at her. "Ma'am?" Her voice was very soft. "I'm really hungry. May I please have something to eat?"

Tara frowned at her. She'd only used the withholding of food as discipline once with Epona, right after she'd taken her as a slave. It was time to remind the girl just whose generosity was feeding her. "No," Tara said shortly. "You can go without." Her brown eyes gleamed at a sudden thought. _Let's make sure this lesson sticks_. She gestured. "Come here." Slowly, Epona crept to where her owner stood. Her hands, still chained together before her chest, twisted nervously. Tara caught the slave roughly by her upper arms. Epona managed a soft cry before the warrior's mouth imperiously claimed hers.

The girl was squirming – _resisting._ Tara's eyes turned icy. She took Epona's feet out from under her and put her down on the bedroll. The slave whimpered as the ties of her tunic were opened. "Be quiet!" Tara growled. "You just give me what's mine and keep your mouth shut."

"I c-can't." Epona was really fighting her now, despite her manacled wrists. "I can't!" She thrashed in Tara's grip, twisted free, and tried to scramble away. The warrior caught her by the scruff of her neck without much effort and jerked her back to the bedroll. Epona cried out in pain! Snarling, Tara resumed her work and pulled open the tunic, baring the slave's body to the waist. The chains wouldn't allow her to take the garment off completely, so she left it there, hanging off Epona's arms. The smaller girl cried and squirmed desperately.

"Stop it!" Tara had lost her patience. She pulled back and slapped her slave hard across the face. "What in hell's wrong with you, anyway?" she demanded. "It's not like this is the first time I've taken you. Are you trying to piss me off?"

Epona sobbed. "No." Her wet eyes looked pleadingly into Tara's. "I just can't give you both," she choked out. "I c-can't do it anymore."

"Both? Both of what?" The warrior scowled in puzzlement. She paused, one hand still pinning Epona to the ground by her neck, the other resting against the girl's naked belly. "What are you talking about?"

"I don't understand what you want." Tears flowed down Epona's cheeks as she sobbed out the words. "I'm trying, ma'am, I swear it! I do what you say, and I'm trying to learn what you want me to do, b-but…you get so angry, and I don't understand why." Tara growled, and the slave flinched. "I can't do both," she whispered.

"Both what, damn it?" the warrior snapped impatiently.

"Both, like this," Epona breathed. "You kiss me and then you beat me…you save me and then you starve me. I can't do this anymore, ma'am. I just can't be afraid of you and love you at the same time."

There was dead silence for several seconds. Tara couldn't seem to remember how to breathe; her mouth hung open in shock. After a minute or two, she finally managed to convince her jaw to work again. Her voice, when she could speak, sounded as if she'd been kicked in the stomach. "What?"

Crimson blood stained Epona's lips from the blow Tara had struck, but the slave seemed to pay it no mind. She looked up into the warrior's stunned eyes with appealing honesty. "I said," she whispered, "I can't be afraid of you and still love you, ma'am."

"_Love_ me?" A bitter, disbelieving laugh burst from Tara's lips. She rose up to her knees and stared down at the bound slave incredulously. "What kind of bardic claptrap is this? Have you gone insane?"

"No, ma'am." Epona's teary eyes gazed at her, still full of unwavering, disarming openness. "It's the truth. I've loved you from the first, I think, even though I wanted to hate you for what you and those raiders did to my family. But I couldn't hate you, Tara. I still can't hate you." The warrior was absolutely stunned. She stared speechlessly down at the chained slave. Epona nodded tearfully. "It's true," she said again. "I mean, there you were, and…and you were like nothing I'd ever seen before. Just this gorgeous, powerful, incredible woman. And then that night, when you first…took me, I...I was so scared, but it was..." The smaller woman's voice trailed off. "I can't help it," she whispered. "I love you, even though I'm still scared of you. You're strong enough to break me in half with your bare hands, and…you probably will kill me someday, won't you?" The slave's voice broke with a tiny sob. "I'm sorry. You must think I'm so stupid."

With an effort, Tara closed her mouth, which had been hanging open again. First Drea, and now this. Had the whole damned world gone nuts? She slowly lay back down, this time stretching her body alongside Epona's instead of crushing her with her weight. Her callused hand grasped the girl gently but firmly by the jaw so she could hold her gaze. "Love is just what I said – bardic claptrap," she said sternly. "You just think you're in love with me because I'm the one who feeds you, and we sleep together. Besides, I'm all you've got now. That's all it is."

The slave's tongue flicked absently at the cut on her lip. She didn't seem convinced. "But…"

"But, nothing." Tara's brown eyes caught and held the moss-green ones. "No more of this, Epona. I'm your master. You obey me and respect me, and you take care of me because that's what I want you to do. That's it. Do you understand?" Epona's brow furrowed, and her gaze dropped. Tara's voice dropped to its lowest register. "I don't want to hear any more of this nonsense about love. Is that understood?"

"Okay." Epona's voice was soft.

"And," the warrior added, "you can bloody quit calling me by my first name. I already told you that. Do it again, and I'll have to punish you."

"Yes, ma'am." The slave slumped down, deflated. Her curly head rested against her owner's shoulder.

"Good. Enough of that, then. Where were we?" Tara's hands pushed beneath Epona's open shirt, sliding down her back to her hips. She bent to kiss her as she began to unfasten the belt at the slave's slim waist. "I think I'd just told you to give me what was mine, slave girl," she muttered. "Something like this." The belt came loose.

The body beneath her hands was compliant again. Tara looked up as she stripped off the last of the slave's clothes. Epona gazed back at her. There was pain in the girl's sensitive face. Tara felt the small hands move against her chest, as much as the chains would allow. "I'm yours," Epona said brokenly. Then she lay back and waited, still gazing at the red-haired woman.

Tara's touch gentled. She felt strangely awkward now, as if she weren't quite sure what to do. She'd intended to take Epona quickly and roughly just to make a point, but now she didn't seem to want to anymore. Tara rolled back onto her side and lay there, puzzling it over. Her hand still stroked up and down Epona's side, from the bottom ridge of her ribs to the prominence of her hipbone. "I, um…ahem! Maybe this isn't a good idea," she said at length. "I'm pretty sure we've put some distance between us and those damned Amazons, but that's no excuse to get complacent. We should be keeping watch. I shouldn't let myself get…distracted…like this. Not until we're safely on a ship."

The slave girl peered at her quietly. "Okay."

Tara turned and fumbled for the key to Epona's chains. "I'll let you sleep with the shackles off," she said. "But they're going back on the minute I think you're disrespecting me again. Understood?"

"Yes, ma'am." Epona's lashes dropped.

The manacles came loose, revealing chafe marks on the slave's wrists. Tara brought water and washed them without comment. She eyed the collar, hesitated, and then decided she liked the look of the thing; she left it on. Her attention turned to the sores on Epona's thighs. They were healing nicely now. The smallest ones had almost vanished, and even the largest was no longer an open wound. Tara bathed them anyway. "There," she said gruffly. "Now get dressed and go to sleep."

Epona got up and put on her clothes without speaking. Then she turned to her owner, who was now seated by the fire. Tara looked up with a slight frown as the slave girl approached. A moment later, a pair of slender arms encircled her neck, and she felt Epona kiss her cheek. "Would it be disrespectful," the smaller girl murmured, "to ask if I could have something to eat before I lie down, ma'am?"

It was strange. Even though Tara knew quite well that Epona was blatantly trying to play her, she still felt herself melting before those soft green eyes. She scowled, more confused than angry, and struggled with herself for a moment. Then she relented, with some ill grace. "Fine," she muttered. "Take half of what's left of our bread. But make it quick, and don't bother me. I've got a watch to keep."

Another little kiss was placed on Tara's cheek. "Thank you, ma'am," Epona said, giving her owner a timid smile. "Good night."

"Good night." Tara turned away as the slave went to fumble in their meager food satchel. _Just claptrap_, she told herself. _Bloody bards…always have to turn everything into some damn melodramatic story._ Silence soon fell in their camp, and Tara was alone with her thoughts. She tipped her head back and lost herself among the stars.


	45. Chapter 45

The restful silence of the night was suddenly broken by a gasp. It was a sharp, ragged sound.

The campfire swam into Tara's view as she sat up. Her breath came in short bursts; her eyes rolled wildly as she struggled to get her bearings. She groped at her own chest, and then stared down at her hands in disoriented relief. _Good. No blood._ Slowly, her wildly-beating heart began to slow, and Tara finally got a handle on when and where she was. Her body relaxed a bit. _Damn._ The warrior mopped at her brow.

Normally Tara didn't even dream, but this nightmare had been incredibly vivid. She'd been back on the battlefield, watching helplessly as Epona went down under a swinging blade. Just as she had in real life, Tara had fought her way savagely to where the wounded slave lay and slaughtered all who stood against her. Then she'd knelt down beside Epona – the tiny, frightened, broken little thing – and scooped her up to comfort her. But the clinging little arms had gained inhuman strength, and the moss-green eyes had glittered with a sudden malicious intelligence. Too late, Tara had reached for her sword, only to watch in horror as a dagger plunged into her unprotected heart. _Mortal pain. Betrayal._

Tara shook herself. _Ridiculous. Why am I letting myself get so worked up? It was just a dream._ She breathed deeply, willing her body to relax itself. Her eyes moved to the small form huddled on the other side of the fire.

Epona was sleeping peacefully with her head pillowed on her arm. She looked very innocent, and very, very young. The warrior leaned back and regarded her in thoughtful silence. The slave had been meek and respectful since the incident with the chains, and had been very careful always to address her owner by her title. Tara really had nothing to complain of, although she had noticed Epona making a few more requests with doe eyes and sweet smiles; they melted Tara like butter. It was strange how one person could elicit so many different, powerful emotions. Tara considered this. _What is it about this girl?_ She studied the mop of curly hair, the rosy cheeks and the long, dark lashes. _Why does she affect me so strongly? Is she a witch?_

The question, as always, seemed to have no answer.

Self-consciously, the warrior looked around. There was only silence and darkness. The firelight danced off the gentle swell of the hill that sloped downward from where they were. This area was only lightly wooded, but they'd managed to find a copse of trees to hide their fire from prying eyes; they were still more exposed than Tara would have liked. She fiddled with the hilt of her sword before resuming her examination of the sleeping slave.

_What is it about her that makes me care? Why does she make me feel so angry, so tender, so confused, so…afraid?_

It was this last item that made Tara wonder about witchcraft. It wasn't that she hadn't been afraid before, of course. She'd known fear in all its incarnations during the course of her life. But it had always been a concrete thing, with an obvious cause – fear of death before a fight, for example, or fear of a coming beating when she'd been a child. This fear was nebulous. It felt a bit like being trapped, Tara thought. Although why the slender, mousey slave should make her feel cornered, she had no idea. Her brow furrowed as she regarded the serene little face.

_She's beautiful._ Tara's eyes softened a bit as she appreciated it. _But that's not it. I've met beautiful women before, and they never affected me like this. Is it her innocence? Is it the fact that she can't fight? Is it the way she crinkles her nose up when she laughs, or the way she tells Bram stories while we're riding, as if he could understand them?_ The warrior shifted. _Is it the way she looks at me so trustingly, as if I weren't the two-hundred-pound brute who holds her life in my hands?_

Her mind looked back on the girl's words from a few nights before. _She thinks she loves me._ Tara sighed and shook her head grimly. _She doesn't, of course. She's just a naïve little kid with all kinds of romantic notions she's learned from storybooks, and so she's inventing some fantastic nonsense about love so that she doesn't have to face the facts. But she believes it. Can't blame her, I guess. Reality can't be too pleasant for her right now._ The warrior felt almost wistful. _I wonder what it would be like if…?_

Tara stopped. Her brows knitted together. _Wait. Am I really sitting here, a day's ride out of Romus, weaving little dreams about my slave falling in love with me? What in Tartarus is wrong with me?_ She rubbed her face impatiently. _Gods. Get some sleep, woman. You've been listening to far too much of that bardic claptrap, yourself._ She lay back down, turned onto her side, and closed her eyes. Despite her determination, it still took Tara some time to go back to sleep.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Epona had always had large eyes. That was one of the things Tara had first found appealing about her. But now they looked almost comically huge in the rapt little face, as the slave seemed to be trying to take in everything around her at once.

They had finally arrived in the great capital city of Romus. Even to Tara's world-weary eyes, it was impressive. Paved roads – towering marble architecture – massive, carved statues of the gods on almost every street corner. There were crowds of people, too, from every corner of the globe. Although they were mostly Argonians and Romusians, Tara spotted some yellow-skinned people from farther east, and even a few faces colored a deep, chocolate brown. Epona clutched instinctively at Bram's reins as she spotted one of the latter. "Look!" she whispered in awe. "Look how dark that man is, ma'am. Is he…is he from the south? Across the ocean?"

The warrior was amused. "Yes. Probably Ethiopia. His clothes look Ethiopian."

Epona was fascinated. "Really? Not Egyptian?"

"Not him, no. They dress a bit differently." Tara steered her mount skillfully through the crowd, glancing back at her gawking slave. "Come on, now. The docks are this way. If I see any Egyptians, I'll point them out to you." The slave followed slowly, still trying to take in all the sights as they went, and Tara sighed. "Come _on,_ Epona. The ocean's this way. Remember the sea? You wanted to see it, didn't you?"

"Oh! Yes." Epona's moss-green eyes brightened. "Is that what that weird smell is?"

"No. That smell is coming from the fish vendors." Tara's nose wrinkled. "Although that is kind of an ocean smell, too, because of the fishing boats and things. This way."

The slave's horse trotted along at the heels of Cerberus. "Have you ever been to Ethiopia and Egypt, ma'am?" she wanted to know. "Are they like all the books say? Are there deserts and camels and big statues of the pharaohs and pyramids? Have you ever seen the pharaoh? Or his palace? Or…"

Tara clapped her hands over her ears. "Enough! Gods above, girl. You're enough to give a rock a headache." Epona subsided with a slight pout. "No, I've never been to Ethiopia. I went to Egypt once, but I was just part of the crew of a ship, and I never saw much more than the dock where we were anchored." The warrior pushed her way impatiently through a knot of men who were haggling over something or other. "Egypt was actually very fertile, though. It's in a river basin. Palm trees, green grass, that kind of thing. The sand's further out. I could see the desert on the distance, but I never went there. It's not the kind of place I'd really want to go." Tara gave her slave a glance. "You wouldn't either, if you were smart."

"Is the desert that ugly?" Epona asked innocently.

"Not ugly. Dangerous. Deadly, even with a guide." The Gael shrugged and looked at the intrigued little face. "Maybe sometime we could nip down there, once we've managed to shake our Amazon friends. Would you like to see Africa, _beag luch?"_

The wide eyes grew wider, until Tara thought they were going to pop right out of Epona's head. "Really?" the girl squeaked. "Africa? And Egypt?"

The warrior couldn't help laughing. "All right, then. We'll add it to our itinerary. We'll lie low in Gaelis for a while first, until the heat dies down. Then we can head east to Britannia, and we'll figure things out from there." Tara spotted something through the crowd, and pointed. "Look. There's the docks. You can see the masts of the ships already," she said. "Once we're through all these people, you'll be able to see the ocean. Stay close. Don't get lost."

"Ooo." Epona drank in the sight of the sails.

Tara's sharp eyes, meanwhile, scanned the crowd and the masts beyond. She wasn't necessarily looking for a particular ship, but she was looking for a particular kind of ship – or barring that, a particular kind of captain. She didn't have money to book their passage, so they were going to have to get on board somewhere as crew. Tara, of course, had the sailing and fighting skills to get what she needed. Epona was going to be another story. The warrior glanced back at the slave girl; the younger woman's eyes were still glued to the sails, and she was craning her neck to try to see more. Tara sighed. _She's eager, but she'll be useless as a sailor. She's not even strong enough to learn. Besides, I don't know if she'll have sea legs. Maybe she'll spend the whole journey laid up in her bunk with seasickness._ Tara rubbed the back of her neck. _But the kid can tell stories. Maybe I can use that to buy our way in. If we're incredibly, incredibly lucky, and if all the gods are in a good mood._

It was far more likely that Tara was going to have to use her fists to make her point.

They had finally pushed their way through the general city crowd, and were now rubbing elbows with dockworkers and sailors. Tara looked over at a low wall, and glanced at her slave. "Hey. You ready to see the ocean, little mouse?" she asked.

"Oh yes, ma'am!" The smaller girl's eyes shone.

"C'mere, then." Tara caught Epona's reins and guided Bram over so the slave could see over the waist-high wall. "Take a good look, squirt."

It was a peculiar pleasure to watch the changes that came over Epona's face. First, the eager anticipation faded into surprise, and then amazement. Then, slowly, a look of astonished delight supplanted that, until Epona's visage glowed with it. "Oh," she whispered. _"Oh."_

The wall, although it only came up to Tara's waist from the street level, was actually a sheer drop-off on the other side. About fifty feet below them lay the actual merchants' docks. There was a gap in the city walls of about half a mile here, affording a wide view of the open ocean that lay beyond the ships anchored in the harbor. Although it was autumn already, the water still retained some of the green warmth of summer in the shallows. This faded into a clear, rich blue farther out, until finally it met the lighter blue of the sky at the horizon. It was beautiful. Tara rather liked it herself, but she thought she preferred watching Epona's enchanted face for the moment. "You like it, _beag luch?"_ she teased.

Epona couldn't seem to tear her eyes away. "Oh, wow," she whispered finally. "Ma'am, it's…that's the most incredible thing I've ever seen."

"Heh." Tara gave a half-grin. "Glad of that. You'll be seeing one hell of a lot more of it in the next few weeks." She waited a minute or two more, and then gave the girl a light slap on the back. "Time to go now, little mouse. Let's go down and get our passage booked on one of those ships down there before we do anything else. We'll want to ship out as soon as we can, right?"

"Yeah." With visible reluctance, Epona allowed the warrior to lead her away from their vantage point. "How much does it cost to sail, ma'am?" she asked as they began to navigate the crowds once more.

"More than we've got," Tara said mildly. "We're going to have to work for our bread."

"Oh." There was silence for a while from the slave girl. The two travelers made their way down a long, sloping street that led down to the docks themselves. As they reached sea level, Epona spoke again. "All I can do is cook and tell stories."

The redhead glanced at her with a mischievous smile. "Oh, I don't know. You're pretty good in a bedroll, too. But I don't intend to share." The slave girl's mouth fell open, and she blushed to the roots of her hair. Tara laughed. Then she sobered again. "I'll get you on board, runt. Sailors love a good yarn, so maybe they'll let you on board to spin them. Let me handle it." She gestured. "This way. There's an inn over there where the sailors like to go. We'll find what we're looking for there." Epona nodded and followed her owner away from the ships, into a small side street.

It had been years since Tara had been here, but it hadn't changed much. There were still the same seedy-looking nautical men, the same old barrels smelling strongly of rotten fish, and the same rather dirty-looking street leading up to the inn that she remembered. Her eye moved over the dingy sign that hung over the door with some affection. _The Minotaur._ Her lips curved. _It's been far too long, my friend._ She glanced back, found the slave girl still trotting along behind, and caught her gaze. "Stay close when we get inside," she warned. "This isn't a nice place." Epona nodded solemnly.

They dismounted and took the horses into the stable. There were two men working there, whose sailcloth shirts and nautical tattoos marked them as former seamen. Tara handed over Bram and Cerberus without comment. Epona bit her lips nervously as they emerged from the building and headed toward the inn. "How are we going to pay for this, ma'am?" she asked softly.

"Leave that to me," Tara said curtly. The truth was that she wasn't entirely sure herself. She'd once had friends in this city who might have helped her, but she didn't know if any of them were still around. _Well, if worse comes to worst, I'll rob some old lady,_ she thought sardonically. _I'll figure something out._ She looked at Epona. "Don't forget what I said," she told her. "Stay with me. This is a rough neighborhood." The slave nodded. Without another word, the warrior turned and went inside.

The place was a dive, really, but it was relatively clean, with no visible vermin. Tara paused in the doorway and took a long, cool look around the common room. There were four or five groups of men there, eating and drinking and gambling. She spotted at least one game of dice going on. Tara felt in her pocket, and found three coins – her worldly wealth. She saw a couple of darkly interested looks cast their way. A few eyes lingered on the small slave behind her. Tara let a possessive hand rest heavily on Epona's shoulder. "Stay close," she muttered again, and headed for the counter.

A woman stood behind it, leaning both her elbows on the bar. She was a Romusian; her straight, black hair was shot through with silver. Tara drew back in momentary surprise. "Lenis? Is that you?"

The woman looked at her sharply. "Who's askin'?" Then she paused, her black brows hiking up. A rakish grin spread over her face. "By all of Diana's bastard spawn, there ain't but one fool redheaded woman who'd dare show her face in the likes of this place. Tara! What heads need knockin', that you're hanging about Romus again?" And she reached over the counter to slap the warrior on the arm.

Tara chuckled. "Oh, I'm not knocking heads. At least, that's not what I'm here for." She sat down on a barstool and motioned for Epona to do the same. The slave obeyed, inching close enough to her owner that Tara could feel the warmth of her body against her own. Epona looked nervous. "I'm looking for a berth," the warrior said quietly. "A ship heading north, preferably all the way to Britannia, and shipping out as soon as possible."

"Are you, now?" Lenis thoughtfully placed two mugs on the bar, filled them with dark beer, and pushed them at her two new guests. "Well, I'd have to ask Dom. He's the one what usually keep track of things like that." She waved away the coins that Tara held out. "Put that away, ye silly fool. Think I'd charge you money for beer?"

The warrior lifted her mug in thanks, took a long swallow, and set it down. "I didn't expect you and Dom to still be running the place, Lenis," she said. "I figured you'd have retired by now, and be off in a little hut on a beach somewhere."

"A beach? What in hell'd we do there?" Lenis grinned. "B'sides, Dominic built this place. It's not like 'e'd leave it to some young whippersnapper to wreck. My husband's got 'is pride, y'know." She glanced at Epona, then back at the warrior. "You makin' friends now, Tara?"

"No more than usual." The redhead drank again. "This is my slave, Epona. She goes where I go."

"Hm." The innkeeper's wife gave the small girl an appraising look. "Better keep an eye on her if you get a ship, then. One good stiff breeze'd knock 'er overboard." Epona looked at her timidly, and Lenis thumped the counter with a grin. "Well? Drink up, you little bit o' fluff. Do you some good." The slave quickly buried her nose in her mug. With a chuckle, Lenis turned away. "I'll go scrape ye both something out o' the stewpot, and see if I can't drag Dom out t' shoot the breeze a bit. Wait a minute." And she vanished into the kitchen.

Tara sipped at her beer and looked around contentedly. The Minotaur held some good memories for her. This was where she'd honed her skills with her fists – many a brawling sailor had fallen under a barrage of her bare-knuckled blows. She rolled the ale around slowly in her mouth. It was a unique brew, tasting of hops and something like honey. Tara glanced at Epona. The smaller girl was still working on her mug, but her eyes flicked around the room with nervous curiosity. "Doing all right?"

"Yes, ma'am." A smile flickered briefly across Epona's face. Then, hesitantly, "We don't have to stay here, do we?"

"We do if we want a bed tonight," Tara said calmly. "No money, remember? Rough as this place is, it beats sleeping in the street." She shrugged. "Besides, even if they are cramped quarters, Dom and Lenis keep the place pretty clean. It's like a ship. Be good practice for you." The slave silently began to drink again.

The kitchen door burst open, and a man appeared in the doorway, his brows lowered and his hands planted firmly on his hips. He was an imposing figure, being over six feet tall, with broad shoulders and bulging muscles. Everything about him bristled. His beard bristled; his bushy eyebrows, pulled low over flashing brown eyes, bristled; even his salt-and-pepper hair bristled. The effect was spoiled only by the crutch tucked up under his left armpit and a rather dirty white chef's apron tied around his middle. "Tara of Gaelis!" he thundered. "You've got some nerve bargin' in here. What d'you think this is?"

Tara glanced at Epona, and nearly laughed. The slave was frozen with her mug to her lips, her green eyes wide and transfixed by the newcomer. Grinning, Tara looked back at him. "Thought it was an inn. Figured I'd come and see if the food's as bad as everyone says it is."

"Bad food? At the Minotaur?" He thumped his fist on the countertop and gave a burst of laughter. "You show me the scurvy dog what said it. I'll toss 'em out a window!"

"Nah. It was just me." Tara cocked a brow at him. "You want to toss me out a window, Dom?"

The man laughed again. "I could try. But better men've failed at that, hey?"

Lenis appeared from behind him, smiling, and set a tray on the bar. It contained two steaming plates of fish, a fresh loaf of bread, a lump of cheese, and a bowl of golden-green olive oil. "Here. Eat up, the both of ye." She jabbed a finger in Epona's direction. "'Specially you, Fluff. Try an' put some meat on your bones, so's the wind won't blow you off somewheres." The slave meekly tore off a piece of bread and dipped it in the oil.

Dom caught a stool with the tip of his crutch, dragged it nearer, and plunked himself down on it. "Lenis tells me you're lookin' for a berth," he said. "Heading north?"

"That's right." Tara took one of the plates of fish and began to eat. "I'm going back to Gaelis for a while. Got a hankering to see the old country, I guess." She glanced at him. "I want to sail as soon as I can."

"Mm. Getting' into too much trouble, Terror of Gaelis?" Dom's eyes twinkled.

Tara stopped in mid-bite, rolled her eyes, and groaned. "Oh, gods. I see the bards in Romus wag their tongues as much as they do in Argonia." She put down her fish and regarded him with a pained expression. "How much have you heard?"

"This here's an inn. Lots of stories told, y'know." He grinned broadly. "I hear someone finally figured out who your daddy was. Friends in 'igh places."

"Bloody hell." Tara cursed softly. "I don't know who started that one, but I'd like to track him down and throttle him. Why anyone would think that an Argonian war god would sire a bastard daughter with some town drunkard from Gael, I don't know."

Dom shrugged. "Hey, don't toss it out too quick. Gods' blood's got its perks," he said. "They're startin' to toss your name 'round the same way they yammer on about them Argonian fellers, Herkules an' Achilles. Ain't bad press."

Tara grimaced. "It is, because I already stick out like a sore thumb, and I'm not interested in being hassled by every wet-behind-the-ears mercenary who thinks he's a big shot and can knock me off my pedestal." She waved her beer at him. "Besides, we've served on ships together, and you damn well know I haven't got divine blood."

"No?" Dom lifted his brows a bit. "You're a bloody amazing fighter. I'd put you up against that Herkules feller in a heartbeat."

"Now you're being ridiculous." The warrior waved off the subject. "Anyway, I want a berth, Dom. Don't much care what the cargo is, so long as the damn thing gets me nearer Gaelis. Got anything for me?"

"Aye, I might. Got a captain shippin' out in th' morning, headin' for the northern colonies." He scratched his nose thoughtfully. "Owes me a favor or two. 'E'd probably take you." Dom paused, his eye resting on Epona, who was silently eating as she listened. "Wait. You plannin' on takin' this little scrap?"

"Epona's my slave," Tara said quietly. "So yes."

He scratched his nose again; his expression was doubtful. "Well, I think I can get 'im to stretch a point," he said. "But you sure that's smart? Sailin' ain't fun and games, even for a strappin' lad. If she ain't stronger than she looks, she won't make it past two ports. Be a damn sight smarter to sell the kid here an' buy yourself a new one in Britannia."

It was Epona's turn to stop halfway through a bite. Moss-green eyes turned uncertainly on Tara. The warrior shook her head, even as she felt the truth of what he was saying. "She'll be fine," she said. "I'll look out for her. She's a bard, so she does have some skills. She goes with me."

"Eh. Suit yourself." Dom shrugged and grinned. "I'll get you on th' ship. Meantime, drink all you like, on th' house."

"Thanks." Tara flashed him a smile.

The two travelers ate well, and went to sleep that night in small, neat bunks in one of the rooms at The Minotaur. Tara made some token attempt at paying what she could for their stay, but the innkeepers wouldn't hear of it. "Nonsense," Lenis said firmly. "No member o' my crew pays for keep from me, not if I can 'elp it. Room at the end of th' hall upstairs is yours. I ain't forgot who 't'was what pulled Dom off that pirate ship in th' Aegean, Tara; an' if you ain't got gods' blood, ye might as well 'ave, says I."


	46. Chapter 46

Tara was placidly packing her things into a neat, tight bundle. She was conscious, as she took her time with her task, of Epona's presence in the room. The slave was sitting on the bunk where she'd slept. Her little body was fairly vibrating with nervous excitement. The warrior smiled to herself, taking care that the girl wouldn't see it.

The slave had awakened Tara well before dawn. She hadn't done it on purpose, the warrior knew – it was just nervous jitters. Nevertheless, an annoyed Tara had rebuked her sharply, and ordered her to sit quietly until she was given permission to move again.

Really, Tara reflected, it had cost her less than an hour of sleep. But it was the principle of the thing.

The warrior finished her task and looked at her slave. Epona had her hands clasped in her lap and her head bowed, but she was peeking hopefully up at Tara through her long, black lashes. Her fingers were twisting together – just a subtle fidget. "All right," Tara said. "You can move. Pack your things together. We're meeting our captain in less than half an hour, so make it quick."

"Okay." Epona fairly leaped from the bunk and began to make up her bundle. "When will we sail? Will we see more of Romus first? Do you think we'll bunk in the same room on the ship? Will they make us swab the deck? How…"

_"Epona."_ Tara's voice held more than a hint of exasperation. "Just pack." The slave fell silent. Tara didn't miss the crushed look on her face, and relented with a sigh. "We're sailing this morning, so we won't be able to see more of Romus this time; we're sleeping in the same room, if I have to break heads to do it; and if swabbing the deck will make you stop asking so many questions, I'm all for it. Pack."

Mournfully, the girl obeyed. "I just wish we didn't have to leave Cerberus and Bram behind," she murmured.

Tara glanced at her. "They'd be miserable on a ship, squirt. It could even kill them," she said quietly. "Besides, Dominic and Lenis will take good care of them. By the time we get back to Romus, those horses will be fat and happy and ready to take us places."

"I know." Epona sighed softly as she tied a final knot. "But I'll miss them."

"Can't be helped," Tara said gruffly. She watched as the slave tucked her bundle under her arm; the sensitive little face still looked sad. The warrior sighed and thumped her on the back. "You'll see them again. C'mon, now. Dom set up our meeting with the captain, and we don't want to keep him waiting." Epona brightened up at this, and she willingly trotted along behind her owner as they headed downstairs.

When they reached the common room, Tara glanced around for Dom. She found him at a corner table. He was lounging on a chair and chatting cordially with a man; at the sight of him, the warrior stopped short. It was a soldier, an officer of obvious high rank. He wore the distinctive brass breastplate of the Romusian army, with a long, red tunic beneath that left his lower legs bare. A short sword was strapped to his thigh, and his brass helmet bore a flashy crimson crest. _Romusian soldiers. Of course,_ Tara thought ruefully. _I should've known. The only ships from here that go that far north are military transports._ She rubbed the back of her neck, sighed, and headed for the table.

Dom looked up as she approached. He grinned. "G'morning, Tara. I was just tellin' the good centurion 'bout our Aegean voyage," he said. "Seems he doesn't think you could've done all the pirate killin' you did."

"No?" Tara raised a brow coldly. "And don't tell me. You've set up some fistfight or something so I can prove it?" She sighed and tossed her bundle of things to Epona. "Fine. Let's get it over with so I can have some damn breakfast before we ship out." She loosened her sword in its sheath. "Well?" she said, leveling her gaze at the officer.

He looked down at her blade, and then looked at her with a dangerous glint in his eyes. "Are you really threatening me?"

"That's up to you," Tara said calmly. "Am I right? Do you need proof?"

The centurion raised a brow. "Do you _want_ to fight me?"

"No. I just got up, and I'd much rather eat and get on a ship," the redhead responded. "But you'll find that I do what needs to be done. So what will it be, Centurion?"

There was a pause. Then the man gave a shrug and a slow smile. "Breakfast will do. We can discuss arrangements while we eat," he said. "If Dom here vouches for your skills, then you're probably skilled. I won't insist on that kind of proof. I'm sure you wouldn't be stupid enough to lie about a thing like that."

"Good." Tara cocked a mischievous eyebrow at Dom. "You don't mind if I eat again, do you, Dommie? Or will you take it out of me later?"

He mock scowled and shook a warning finger at her. "You watch that mouth of yours, you wet-nosed little sprout," he said. "Just because you swings a knife better'n most don't mean you can go disrespectin' your elders. You'll get naught but dry bread an' water." He rose to his feet, his face still scrunched up. His eyes fell on Epona; the slave shifted and peered up at him timidly, and his lips curved upward slightly. Dom leaned forward and gave Epona a conspiratorial wink as he settled his crutch. "We'll bring you somethin' special," he said. "Then you can make Tara be extra nice to you, so's you'll share." And he stumped off toward the kitchen.

Epona looked thoughtful. She slowly turned her great, green eyes on her owner, and a small smile curved her lips. Tara leaned over to poke her in the chest. "Don't even think about it, runt," she said.

The slave pouted prettily. "Not even a little bit?"

"No," Tara growled. "Not even a little bit." Epona slumped down and nodded disappointedly, but her eyes twinkled a little. Tara couldn't help a bit of a grin. _Little minx._

The centurion looked Epona over appraisingly and laid his hands on the table. "My name is Lucian," he said, addressing his words to Tara. "I've been an officer in the Romusian navy for nearly ten years. I've seen a few things, and, from what Dominic tells me, so have you. Now, as a fellow sailor and a soldier, I ask you – do you really intend to bring this girl on board a military transport ship for a journey this long?"

"Yes, I do." Tara frowned at him. "Epona's my slave, and I'm bringing her with me."

He regarded the redhead levelly. "You've sailed," he said. "You know what it's like on board a ship, and I'm sure you know what soldiers are like. This little bit of a slave of yours ought to be serving some lady in a mansion, not knocking about a military vessel. It's dangerous on many levels."

"She's tougher than she looks," Tara said stubbornly. "As for your men, if any one of them so much as lays a finger on my property, they'll find out exactly why I've earned the nickname of Terror."

Lucian regarded Epona doubtfully. "You might possibly be able to protect her from the men," he said, "but what about scurvy, and seasickness, and the like?" He leaned forward slightly and addressed the little slave directly. "Tell me something, girl. Are you strong? Are you sick often?"

Epona looked at Tara nervously. "Um…not very, sir. I've had coughs before. And I had a fever a while ago, but that wasn't…"

"Forget it," Lucian said flatly, turning his gaze back to Tara. "I'm no stranger to killing, but I don't want the needless death of some pretty little child on my conscience. I'll take you aboard my ship, Tara of Gaelis, but not your slave. It would be murder."

"I can take care of her," Tara insisted. "She's already seen battle twice – she served as a field medic in both. She's been traveling with me for nearly two months already. We've caught and gathered our own food and slept beneath the stars pretty much that whole time. She's taken a beating and come out of it. Believe me, she isn't nearly as delicate as she seems."

The centurion seemed doubtful. "A field medic? You?" He eyed Epona.

Quietly, the slave girl nodded. "Yes, sir. I held a soldier's cut closed while it was stitched up. And I got wounded once when I got separated from our side – but my master saved me." Moss-green eyes softened and moved to Tara's face.

"Wounded, hey?" Lucian still looked skeptical. Without a word, Epona lifted up her tunic to display the cut that snaked across her abdomen. It was almost completely healed, most of it having faded into pink scar tissue, but it was still scabbed over in places. Tara winced a bit at the memory of watching the slave fall. She watched as Lucian examined Epona's belly; his dark eyes met Tara's a moment later. "All right," he said reluctantly. "But her blood is on your head if she dies, you understand?"

Tara nodded quietly. "That's always been the case, Centurion. But I'll take care of her." She looked at Epona. Warm green eyes met hers, and Tara smiled in spite of herself. _Gods, she's beautiful._

Dom reappeared, closely followed by his wife, who bore two trays of food. He sat down as Lenis served the table. Despite Dom's threat, no one was given dry bread and water; fruit, fresh bread and a jug of wine were made available to all. As Epona began to eat, Lenis laid something extra on her plate and gave her a mischievous wink. "Something just for you, Fluff," she said, and disappeared into the kitchen. It was a small, flaky bit of pastry. The slave peered at Tara with a questioning look. The warrior gave her an indulgent nod. She didn't miss the delight in Epona's eyes as she devoured the treat. _I should make it a point to get her something like that every now and then,_ Tara thought. _It wouldn't cost me much, and look how it makes her smile._

Lucian drank. "My ship sails in just under two hours," he said. "If you sign on, Tara, you'll be a member of my crew. That means you'll answer to me as your captain, the same as any other crew member." He leaned forward and looked her pointedly in the eye. "I am a Romusian officer, and I expect my orders to be obeyed. I run a tight ship. You'll be subject to the same expectations and consequences as my men."

The warrior grimaced a bit. This was exactly why she'd left being a sailor in favor of being a mercenary. It hadn't been too bad with Dom and Lenis, but it had still required far too much _obedience._ She rested her elbow on the table and her chin on her hand. "Going to whip me at the mizzenmast, Captain?" she said lightly.

"If you require it, yes. If you serve with my men, you'll be treated the same as them." Lucian's gaze didn't falter.

Tara scratched her ear and considered in silence. She needed the lift, and who knew how long she'd have to wait for the next ship? Besides, any vessel headed up there was going to be military, and the discipline would be the same. She sighed. "All right," she said reluctantly. "I'll follow orders, Captain. But," and her dark eyes gleamed suddenly, "I wouldn't try to take advantage of that, if I were you."

A cool smile twitched his lips. "Understood. I'll keep in mind that you are neither Romusian nor a soldier, Tara, so long as you remember that I am both."

She looked at him for a moment, and then gave a reluctant smile in return. _So rare to find an officer and a captain who isn't wrapped up in his ego._ "In that case, maybe this will work out, Captain Lucian."

"Between us, yes." The captain looked sternly at Epona. "You'll be expected to follow orders as well, young lady. First from your owner, of course; but also from me. Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir," the slave girl said meekly. She fidgeted, twisting her fingers together. "I…don't really know anything about sailing, sir."

"You won't be expected to," Lucian said. He looked amused; his eyes flicked to Tara. "Does she have any useful skills, other than sewing up wounds?"

Tara took a bite of bread. "She can cook and do odd jobs," she said. "Also, she's a bard. We lost her harp a couple of weeks ago, unfortunately, but she can sing, and she's a mean storyteller."

"Oh, really?" The captain looked interested. "That might come in handy later. The boys in my regiment have been with me a long time, and we've heard each others' fish stories a dozen times over. It might be nice to hear a few new ones." He regarded Epona with his head on one side. "Do you know a lot of stories, girl?"

Epona nodded with a shy smile. "Yes, sir. I make up my own, too."

"Good. We'll put you to the test, then." Lucian finished his breakfast and set down some coins on the table. "Now, I think it's time for us to go to the ship and introduce you to the crew, Tara of Gaelis," he said. "Are you prepared to leave?"

Tara inclined her head. "We are, Captain."

Dom grinned quietly. "You best take good care of Lucian here, Tara. 'E's a good man, and th' gods know we can always use more o' them."

The warrior chuckled. "I will." She reached out, and they clasped each others' forearms. "It's been good seeing you and Lenis again, Dominic. Maybe next time I come through Romus, I won't be in such a hurry, and we can relax and talk a bit more."

"Aye," Lenis called over, from where she was clearing a nearby table. "And you bring that bit o' fluff with you, ye fool redheaded woman, so's I can see if you been takin' care o' her proper. She better have some more meat on 'er, next time I sees her."

The warrior gave her a pained look. "And just how would I put more meat on her? I don't have any, myself." And she slapped her own flat belly.

"Just feed the fluff somethin'." Lenis grinned and lifted a hand in farewell. "Take care o' yerself, Tara. Come by when ye can." And she disappeared into the kitchen with her armload of dirty dishes.

"Wait." The soft voice arrested Tara as she got up from the table. Epona peered up at her sadly. "Do we have a minute? Can we stop by the stables, ma'am?" she asked. "I want to say goodbye to Cerberus and Bram." Her lip quivered.

Tara gave her a rather exasperated look, but glanced at Lucian all the same. Fortunately, the captain was kind enough to allow the delay, and the three of them went to the inn's stables. There Epona stroked the proud nose of Cerberus. Then she flung her arms around Bram's neck and cried. Tara allowed it for a few minutes, casting uncomfortable looks at the captain. Then she stepped forward and laid her hand on Epona's shoulder. "Time to go, runt," she said.

Epona turned away from the horse, cast her arms impulsively around Tara's waist, and rested her head against the smooth metal of the warrior's breastplate. Tara started and looked down at the little slave in bemusement. Then she gave the slender back a perfunctory pat. "Okay, Epona. Enough, now," she said quietly. "Let's go."

"M'sorry." The girl's voice was muffled. She pulled away and wiped her eyes with the backs of her hands.

_Kid needs something else to think about. She'll be fine once she sees the ship._ The warrior placed her pack into the slim hands. "Carry this," she instructed. "You can make sure it gets put on my bunk once we're on the ship." Epona clutched it and nodded, gulping back a sob. Both of them turned and followed the Romusian captain down the street toward the docks.

"There she is." Lucian smiled a bit and indicated one of the ships. Tara raised her brows as she looked. It was a massive ship – a four-master, with portholes that hinted at a crew of galley slaves. The largest ship Tara had ever sailed on had only had two masts, and certainly no oars. "A beauty, isn't she?" the centurion said lightly. "This is _The Nereid_. I'll have been her captain five years this spring."

"It is, indeed." Tara glanced at the portholes. "You have galley slaves?"

"We do," he confirmed. "Although I doubt we'll have too much need of them. There's no lack of winds on the route to Britannia." Tara nodded silently. The gods knew _that_ was true. "This way, ladies," Lucian said, making his way up the gangplank. "The crew will be assembling on deck for the final sacrifices and libations to the gods, so you can join us there." Without a word, Tara followed. Epona hesitated, casting one last glance back at the mighty city of Romus, before she followed at her owner's heels.


	47. Chapter 47

The night looked so different out on the water. There was nothing obstructing the view of the sky except the masts and sails that towered overhead. The only light was that shed by the half-moon, and the stars that shone like crystal in the velvet darkness. Epona gave a sigh of contentment and snuggled closer to the warm body sitting beside hers.

Epona had been conscripted to the ship's kitchen, and had spent most of her time that day stirring and chopping. She'd had a bit of time to watch Tara at work, though. The warrior had been climbing up the rigging when she'd first caught sight of her. Dangling up there between heaven and earth with her red hair whipping in the wind like a battle flag, she'd looked – to the slave – like some kind of barbarian war spirit. With almost effortless grace, Tara had caught at a loose rope and tied it down securely. Then she'd clambered down the rigging and, in a negligent display of strength, moved a heavy water barrel over by a railing. Epona had watched in fascination.

Physical strength was something Epona hadn't been blessed with. She had, in fact, been considered sickly by her family as a child. She didn't think she was particularly unhealthy, but she'd always been small. To watch someone as powerful and agile as Tara at work filled her with admiration. (And, perhaps, some envy.)

When she'd finished work for the day, Tara had wanted to go back to their bunk at once, but Epona had managed to persuade her to look at the stars for a while first. A chill wind blew across the deck, sending its icy fingers down the back of Epona's neck. She shivered. A moment later, she felt part of Tara's cloak wrap around her body. Epona looked up, and her eyes met the brown ones of her owner. The warrior gave her a quiet smile. "It gets cold out here faster," she said. "Nothing to shield you from the wind." The little slave smiled back almost involuntarily. Tara was in one of her gentler moods, and Epona loved those. She cuddled contentedly into her owner's form. "Guess I'd better get you a decent cloak when we next put into port," Tara murmured. "Maybe someone on board has a spare one you can use until then."

The slave peered at her shyly. She thought maybe Tara was in a good enough mood for a joke. "Maybe I could keep sharing yours, ma'am," she whispered. "I don't mind."

"I just bet you don't." The warrior grinned at her infectiously and slung a long arm around her shoulders. "But you need your own for when I'm swinging around on the rigging, _beag luch._ I can't carry you around in my pocket all day, even if you are only a little mouse."

Epona rested happily against her. At times like this, she could almost forget about Tara's dark, angry side. She slipped her own arms around the warrior's waist. "Ma'am?" Tara grunted in response. "You promised that…well, that when we got on the ship, you'd…" Epona stopped. She could feel a dark flush creeping up the back of her neck.

Tara's deep chuckle rumbled out of the darkness. Epona suddenly felt the woman's mouth against the side of her neck. "That I'd strip you down, throw you on my bunk and take you until you begged for mercy?" The slave's face burned, and she heard her owner laugh again. "Oh, I will, little mouse. I will, don't you worry. Just as soon as you get tired of stargazing." Beneath the cloak, the woman's callused hand slipped beneath Epona's waistband and cupped around her hip. It felt cool, and sent a delicious shiver up the slave's spine. Tara frowned at this. "Are you still cold?" she asked, tucking the corner of her cloak more securely around her slave's body.

"No. Not anymore." Epona held up her mouth to be kissed, and was rewarded. Tara's lips claimed hers hungrily. By the time the kiss broke, the little slave felt weak and breathless. She slumped into Tara's strong arm and rested her head against the broad shoulder.

Tara chuckled again. "You ready yet, little mouse?" Her voice was deep with desire. "Have you seen enough stars?"

"I've seen enough stars," Epona agreed softly, slipping her arms around the warrior's neck. Unexpectedly, Tara's arms pushed under her body, and she was lifted up. Epona squeaked with alarm, clinging to the woman's neck. She still hadn't gotten used to the rocking deck of the ship. Tara, however, strode across the planks with ease. "How do you do that, ma'am?" the slave asked curiously. "The way the boat moves makes me feel so weird."

"Oh?" The warrior looked at her keenly. "Nauseous?"

Epona shook her head. "No. Just strange. It's really hard to walk when the ground doesn't sit still like it's supposed to."

"You'll get used to it. You've just got to get your sea legs." Tara ducked her head down to indulge in another kiss. The little slave responded, licking lightly across the warrior's lips. The last couple of times they had slept together, Epona had been timidly returning a few of her master's touches and kisses, and had found the redhead receptive. Now she felt Tara's step falter, and the kiss abruptly broke. "Don't ido/i that!" Tara sputtered, with a harsh laugh. "You almost made me drop you."

"I'm sorry, ma'am." Epona felt rather pleased with herself. She smiled up at her owner. Tara scowled back, but there was a certain twinkle in the brown eyes that Epona was learning to watch for. The slave cuddled her forehead into the crook of Tara's neck and rested, content to let her owner carry her where she would.

There was so much that was new and exciting on this ship. The ocean itself was an incredible thing. It was all that Epona had thought it would be, and more. It was massive and dynamic and beautiful, and she could now understand the stories that had talked about sailors and their wanderlust. She thought she'd want to be on the sea all the time, if she were a sailor. The wind, too, seemed different here – an unfettered animal that flung itself playfully against the sails and chilled her every now and then with a capricious gust. And then there was the mere fact that they were traveling. She was going to see Britannia, which she'd barely even heard of, and Gaelis, of which she knew even less. Little tingles of excitement prickled Epona's skin when she thought about it.

The slave reached up to kiss Tara's earlobe. "How long will it take to get to Gaelis, ma'am?" she asked.

Dark eyes flicked down to look at her. "We'll be sailing for about three weeks, if everything goes as planned," Tara said. "But storm season's starting now, so the odds are we'll run into some rough weather on the way. Plan on four or five weeks at sea. After that, we'll have to catch a ship going across from Britannia to Gaelis, which is at least another day of travel, even if we get one right away." She stopped walking. "After that, it's about a week's walk to my home village," Tara said quietly. She set Epona down. "Here we are, little mouse."

Their room was tiny, as were nearly all the quarters on the ship; even Epona could stand in the middle of it and touch the opposite walls with her fingertips. There were two narrow bunks on the righthand wall. Tara's was the bottom one, and Epona's the top, although the slave suspected they'd share Tara's on most nights. Now, Tara gave the smaller girl a light swat on the bottom and a push in the direction of the bunks. "Out of those clothes, Epona. You first – you take up less space than I do."

The warrior was just standing there, her muscular arms folded across her chest, watching her slave with a slight smirk. Epona felt her cheeks grow warm. She glanced self-consciously at the small lamp that lit their room, and then slowly began to tug off her tunic. Tara's grin grew a bit wider as the garment fell. Epona hesitated and looked at her through her lashes, fidgeting. "Do you…do you have to watch, ma'am?" she whispered.

"Does it make you nervous, little slave girl?" Tara's voice was deep and seductive. She moved forward and placed her hands on Epona's waist. The slave gave a soft gasp at the contact against her bare skin; Tara drew her closer, until she could feel the warrior's breath stirring her hair. "Or maybe you just need help, hm?" the redhead teased. Her hands slid lower, and her fingertips brushed just beneath the waistband of Epona's trousers. "Is that it?" Tara burred.

Epona couldn't speak. The woman's fingers were leaving trails of fire wherever they went. She opened her mouth, but no words came; she gasped softly and leaned into Tara's solid body.

"Hm, looks like I was right." The warrior grinned seductively as she loosened the waist of Epona's trousers. "Well, if you need help, then I…iah!"/i

The little slave had suddenly regained control of her body. She'd impulsively pushed both her hands up under Tara's shirt. As the warrior gasped, Epona felt higher to find the place where hard muscle and bone gave way to the soft swells of her breasts. The rough hands on Epona's hips tightened convulsively on her flesh, and the slave gave a soft cry of pleasure and pain.

Breathlessly, Tara loosened her grip and, sliding her hands around to rest in the small of Epona's back, pulled her against herself. "Sorry," she managed. "You surprised me."

Epona smiled her forgiveness, pulled open the neck of Tara's shirt, and stood up on her tiptoes so she could kiss the soft skin of the woman's throat. She could feel Tara's racing pulse against her lips and the firm muscles that lay beneath her hands. It was a heady feeling to be clasped so close to the warrior. Epona had seen and tasted firsthand how powerful and deadly this woman was. She imagined this was a bit like riding some untamed horse. iOnly I bet the horse wouldn't be half as dangerous,/i Epona thought hazily.

Clothing vanished somehow, and Epona found herself lying on her back on Tara's narrow bunk with the warrior on top of her. Tara's hands and mouth were hungry and insistent, but Epona noticed that she was careful not to let her full weight crush down on her smaller lover, and there was no pain. As callused as Tara's hands were, they could be amazingly gentle.

A woman of many contradictions.

It felt so good. Epona was as powerless as a child before the warrior's experienced attentions. She tried to return the kisses and gropes, struggled to give back some of the overwhelming sensations Tara gave her, but it felt like a losing battle. Time and again, she found herself whimpering helplessly as her owner coaxed her to the peak of pleasure, unable to do much more than cling to the well-muscled back.

At last, it stopped. The girl found herself cuddled snugly in Tara's arms, her head resting on her soft breast. She didn't seem to have any memory of when Tara had reversed their positions, but she found that she didn't much care. Epona yawned, profoundly sleepy, and stroked the velvety skin of her owner's belly. "Ma'am?"

"Mm?" Tara gave a huge yawn. "If this is going to be a barrage of questions, save it until morning, will you?"

"Just one." Epona turned her head to kiss the breast on which her head was pillowed. "Do I make you feel good?"

Tara's eyes, which had been closed, opened a crack to regard her quizzically. "Eh?"

"When we…make love," Epona faltered. "When I, um…touch you. Does it make you feel good?" The warrior's dark brows lowered, and Epona forged on. "I mean, when you touch me, it feels amazing," she blurted. "It's wonderful, but I can't…always…give you anything back, ma'am. Is it all right? Do I do okay?"

The warrior started to laugh – weakly, because she was tired. "Are you really asking me to evaluate your performance in bed?"

"Um." The slave flushed scarlet.

Still laughing, Tara reached out a long arm and snuffed out their lamp. In the darkness, Epona felt it join its twin, wrapping around her like a band of warm, protective steel. "You do fine, little mouse," the warrior teased. "I like making you squeak, and I like what you do. Why? Do you want to do more?"

The little slave snuggled down in her warm cocoon and closed her eyes. "Yeah," she said sleepily. "I want you to feel good, too."

"Then you go ahead and do more next time." Tara's voice dropped low, until Epona could feel it rumbling through the chest on which she lay. "But not tonight. I'm wiped, and I think we've had enough." She kissed Epona's forehead. "Good night, ibeag luch,"/i she said, and her tone was almost tender. "Get some sleep. It'll be a lot of hard work while we're here."

Epona yawned again. "G'night, Tara," she murmured. Waves of sleep were already pulling her from reality's shore. The last thing she knew was Tara's voice softly wishing her a good rest, and the warm strength of the woman's body pressed up against her own.


	48. Chapter 48

It was warm in the direct afternoon sunlight, but there was a cool wind whipping across the deck from the water. Tara hung on the rigging for a moment to enjoy it, and to savor the salt spray that misted on her cheeks. She couldn't help grinning; a sense of well-being coursed through her veins.

When she'd first left Gaelis, she'd hired herself out as a mercenary as she made her way south. After about six months, she'd found herself in Romus, as most wanderers eventually did. She'd wound up in The Minotaur, attracted by its rough atmosphere and good food. A brawl had broken out, and Tara had gleefully made short work of any and all comers; this had attracted the attention of a certain ship's captain named Dominic. He'd offered her a job on the spot, and Tara – then lacking in money – had accepted.

Sailing had been good, Tara remembered. She'd done it for nearly three years before going back to the mercenary game that eventually brought her to Argonia. She loved the outdoors and the exercise, and the good times with the crew when ashore; she'd hated having to obey orders and being unable to leave when the mood took her. But there were certainly far worse things than being a sailor. With a sudden effort, Tara lifted herself up, reached for one of the lines that held the top of the second sail, and pulled it tighter. Her muscles strained, and her grin grew wider as she tied a secure knot. Yes – she'd definitely done less enjoyable things. Her eye caught on a small figure scurrying across the deck, and Tara paused to watch it. Her gaze softened.

Epona had taken to ship life quite well in the week since they'd come aboard. She hadn't suffered from seasickness, and it seemed that she was getting the hang of walking on the ever-shifting deck. The ship's cook loved her, and the crew seemed to like her as well – especially after the storytelling session she'd given them on their third night aboard _The Nereid._ She was, in fact, fitting in better than her owner. Tara watched Epona's lithe figure disappear down into the galley. Then she slid down a rope and dropped back onto the deck of the ship.

"Tara!" The redhead turned to find the ship's captain gesturing at her. She turned toward him and drew herself up. His eyes flicked to a sailor standing a yard or two to her right. "Tara, Eneas – deck needs swabbing."

"Aye, Captain!" the sailor said promptly. Tara eyed the captain, inclined her head in a dignified manner, and turned away to follow the order. She never bowed and scraped the same way the sailors did, but she had yet to defy an order; Captain Lucian had nothing to complain about.

She'd even managed not to get into too many fights with her fellow crewmembers. There had been one minor dustup on the second day, when a slightly-drunk sailor had decided to proposition Epona within Tara's earshot. The warrior had promptly laid him flat with one vicious punch in the stomach. There had been no more _problems_ after that. Tara's lips curved as she began to carry out the captain's order, starting at the opposite end of the ship to Eneas.

Coming aboard this ship had been a good thing, Tara decided. She felt much happier now that the threat from the Amazons was more remote. She was getting plenty of the fresh air and exercise that she loved, and – to her relief and delight – was once more free to indulge herself at night in her slave's slender body. Tara still slept lightly and kept her senses sharp, of course, but she felt much more relaxed now that she didn't have to be so vigilant anymore. She thought Epona seemed happier, too. Certainly Tara was seeing more of the slave's charming little smile.

Evening fell. The night shift of sailors took over, and Tara headed for the galley to eat. She took a seat at a table and glanced at the door that led into the ship's kitchen proper; she didn't have long to wait. A slim figure slipped out of it a minute or two later, bearing a full plate. Epona threaded her way through the rowdy sailors to where her owner sat, set the plate before her, and slipped onto the bench beside her. "Ma'am," the girl said softly.

Tara began to eat with one hand, curving her other arm around the slave's waist. Epona leaned against her; the warrior felt the weight of the curly head against her shoulder. Tara grinned and took another bite of the ship's hard bread. "Have a good day, little mouse?"

"It was good." The slave's small fingers curled over the hand at her waist. "I think you're getting darker, ma'am," Epona murmured, observing her own skin against her owner's.

"Could be," Tara agreed. "I've been outside more than you have." She released the girl and applied herself to her meal – she was ravenous. "You not hungry?" she asked, with her mouth full.

Epona gave a slight wince at the sight and looked away. The warrior mentally scolded herself for forgetting about the girl's polite sensibilities. "No, ma'am. I've been looking at this food for hours. I guess I just don't want to eat it now."

Sternly, Tara tapped her knuckles against the table. "Go get a plate," she said. "Whether you feel like it or not, you need to eat, Epona. You're working hard all day, and I don't want you getting sick." The warrior's expression softened then, and she grinned. "If you do, Captain Lucian will never let me forget it. I want you in the best of health, squirt." She pinched lightly at Epona's side, making her giggle. "Move. Go get some food."

"Yes, ma'am." Epona dropped her lashes and went to do as she was told.

The two of them ate together. The other sailors mostly left them to themselves; they'd already found that Tara was silent and surly much of the time. A few of them did make passing comments to Epona. As the edge was taken off Tara's hunger, she began to eat more slowly and watch her slave. _What is it with her? How can she stand being so damn sweet all the time? It'd rot my teeth_. She watched as Epona returned a young soldier's greeting with a smile. Tara caught the young man's eye and gave him a dangerous grin of her own; he left hurriedly. Tara chuckled inwardly as she started to work on her ration of grog.

A little paw rested gently on Tara's arm, drawing her attention. She looked down into a pair of shy green eyes. "Do you have guard duty tonight, ma'am?" Epona asked.

Tara drained the rest of her fiery liquor at one gulp. "Nope," she said with a suggestive grin. "I don't have to sit around staring at galley slaves for hours on end. I can devote my attentions to more important things."

The slave flushed scarlet and looked away. "Um…that's good," she stammered, glancing around surreptitiously to see if anyone had overheard the comment. Tara had to stifle a wicked urge to kiss Epona, just to see that adorable blush deepen and spread. Instead she simply grinned as she watched the girl struggle to regain her composure. "I, um…I want to ask you something," Epona finally managed.

"Do you, now?" Tara leaned back casually on her stool. "About what?"

Epona's head dropped. "I'd rather ask in private, if I could, ma'am. I'm just wondering about something."

The warrior raised a curious brow. "Well, all right." She glanced at Epona's half-cleared plate. "Finish eating first," she said, "and we'll head back to our bunk early. If you're done in the kitchen for today – ?" Epona nodded silently. Tara's arm curved loosely around the slave's waist again as the girl ate. When the final dainty bite had vanished, Tara rose and gave Epona's arm a businesslike tug. "Let's go, then." The girl rose quietly and followed.

Once they'd reached their room, Tara set her back against the door and tugged the smaller girl up against herself. She felt Epona's body shiver as she bent her head down to claim her mouth. The slave's form felt warm and fragile in Tara's hands. The warrior kissed her thoroughly, without haste, exploring her mouth with her tongue. She slipped a finger through the ring in Epona's collar and tugged her even closer. Finally she pulled back and gazed down. Epona's cheeks were pink, and her breath was coming just a bit faster. Tara thought she looked pleased. With a smirk, Tara dropped another light kiss on the end of Epona's nose. "So, what d'you want, runt?" she growled playfully.

Epona's small hands grasped at the hem of Tara's shirt. The warrior felt the girl's lean body slump against her. "Another kiss?" Moss-green eyes peered up into Tara's with deceptive innocence.

Tara gave the slave's bottom a slap. "Brat." But she grinned and indulged herself again in Epona's soft lips. She felt the slave's warm, wet little tongue play along the corner of her mouth, and groaned. Epona had been responding to her more and more; Tara loved it. She shivered and moaned again as slim hands slipped beneath her shirt to rub gently against bare skin.

There was a tense pause; then Epona pulled back with an impish twinkle. "You want me to ask my question now, ma'am?" she asked.

"You'll pay for that, you little tease of a rodent." Tara's voice was breathless, and her hands itched to explore the slim body that leaned against her own. She contented herself for the moment with cupping the small of Epona's back. Her brown eyes glittered dangerously as she gazed down into the slave's, and she favored her with a predatory grin. "You'd better ask fast, runt. I fully intend to throw you down and ravish you mercilessly in a minute. If I don't have guard duty, I'm damn well making good use of the time."

Epona gave her a shy smile, then looked at her curiously. "What's it like down in the galley?" she wanted to know. "How do they treat the slaves?"

Abruptly, Tara's expression cooled. "Is that your question?" The slave looked at her in confusion. "Did you really haul me back here just to moralize at me about the galley slaves?" Tara demanded, her tone hardening.

"N-no!" Epona shrank back a bit in Tara's grip. "No, that wasn't my question. I was just curious. I've never seen a galley." The warrior's expression didn't alter, and Epona's lip quivered. She lifted her hands timidly to stroke Tara's powerful biceps. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "Please forgive me, ma'am. I didn't mean to make you mad."

"Then what was your question, slave?" Tara's sandy brows were still lowered menacingly. "Spit it out."

The slave girl shivered and lowered her gaze. She made no attempt to escape from Tara's grasp. "I guess I was just wondering," she murmured. "A lot of people here ask me how come you brought me with you. And Captain Lucian and that Dominic man didn't think it was a good idea, either." Epona's eyes lifted again to meet Tara's. "Why do you bring me with you, ma'am? You could have sold me in Romus. You could have left me with the Amazons."

The warrior's frown deepened. "I don't like losing my property."

Epona considered this. "You left Bram and Cerberus."

"They would've died on this ship," Tara growled.

"So could I." Solemn green eyes. "I heard the cook tell the captain he doesn't think I'll make it past the first storm."

"Remind me to kick his ass," Tara muttered.

The slave sighed and gave her a reproachful look. There was silence for a moment. The slim hands continued their absent caress of Tara's arms; the warrior felt her temper cooling under the soothing touch. Epona leaned forward to rest fully against her. "Ma'am," she said softly, "do you think I'm old enough to understand death?"

Tara frowned, wondering where this was going. "No," she said frankly, "I don't. You've seen a bit of it now, maybe, but you don't really get it yet."

"And do you think I'm old enough to understand suffering?" Epona's gaze was solemn.

This gave Tara pause. She considered the question for a minute or so. "Maybe," she said grudgingly. "You've had at least some experience there. But you're no expert on that, either, runt." The warrior raised a brow. "Why? Are you making a list of your accomplishments or something?"

"No." The slave's fingers stopped their stroking, and she simply cuddled against her owner's body. "Have you ever been in love, ma'am?"

"No." Tara's tone sharpened just a bit. "I already told you that garbage doesn't exist. Love is for stupid aristocrats and moony poets who don't have anything more practical to do. It's nonsense."

Epona rested her dark head against Tara's shoulder and closed her eyes. "I don't know, ma'am," she murmured. "There are an awful lot of really intelligent people who believe in it." Silence. Tara's brows lowered again, menacingly. "Like Sappho," the slave whispered, without opening her eyes. "_When I look on you a moment, then I can speak no more, but my tongue falls silent, and at once a delicate flame courses beneath my skin, and with my eyes I see nothing, and my ears hum, and a wet sweat bathes me, and a trembling seizes me all over._" She paused, then quoted again. "_Stand and face me, my love, and scatter the grace in your eyes._"

"That's enough!" Tara snapped. She caught the little slave by the front of her tunic, shoved her back against the wall, and glowered at her. "You think you're going to trick me? You want to contradict me? You want to disobey me, since I told you last time that you weren't to spout this love bullshit at me again?"

The smaller girl flinched. Her eyes filled with tears, but her voice, when she spoke, was steady. "Why did you bring me with you?" Her teary gaze met Tara's. "Why did you protect me in that battle, and save me from the Amazons?"

"You are _asking_ for it," Tara hissed. Gone was the tenderness and desire she'd felt only a few minutes before. She was furious. Her fist tightened convulsively around her handful of Epona's collar as her self-control wavered dangerously. "I am your master. You think I won't punish you for defying me?"

The tears brimming in the moss-green eyes spilled over, but Epona's voice still didn't waver. "Why does it make you so angry, ma'am? I don't understand. What's so bad about being loved?" she asked softly. "And why is it such a horrible thing that you might love me back?"

That did it. Red mist fogged Tara's vision. She gave one incoherent snarl before she began to strike. She vaguely heard her victim's cries, but they only fueled her rage. Over and over Tara struck, venting her rage in the only way she knew.

She came back to herself abruptly. Epona was down on the floor on her back, whimpering weakly. Tara's knee was pressed into the middle of the girl's chest, pinning her down; her left hand was clenched around the slave's slender wrists. Panting for breath, Tara looked dazedly down. Her victim's face was covered with blood. The warrior looked down at her own right hand, and found that it, too, was liberally smeared with crimson.

Tara's stomach lurched. _What have I done?_

Epona didn't move when Tara got off her. She seemed only partly conscious; little sobs shook her, but her glazed eyes stared vacantly. A vision flashed before Tara's eyes - _another night, a lifeless little body, an empty place on the cobblestones_. Her stomach heaved again. Tara didn't know what else to do. She fled.

Her staggering steps carried her to the bow of the ship, to the railing. The warrior lurched against it and clutched at it with both hands. Then she lost the battle with her roiling insides, and vomited into the blackness of the sea. For what felt like hours, Tara huddled there helplessly, coughing and retching long after her stomach was empty. Then she collapsed to her knees there on the deck. She could still see Epona's blankly-staring eyes…dead? _No. No, she was breathing. She…wasn't she?_ Tara clutched at her aching stomach.

_Gods…gods, what have I done?_


	49. Chapter 49

"'Tis not so bad, warrior."

It was the third time that the ship's doctor had said that. Tara shot him a dark glare from where she stood in the corner of the room. She'd stood there ever since she'd brought him here, farthest from the door, her back pressed up against the rough wood of the walls. Her arms were folded tightly over her chest. She had watched in stony silence as he'd lifted Epona's unconscious form into the lower bunk. Her silence had continued throughout the time that he'd worked.

His gaze dropped under hers, and he turned back to gently wiping blood from Epona's cheek. "The child will live," he went on, his voice calm. "She'll have a bad headache when she wakes. Her nose is broken, and that will hurt her for a while, but it was a clean break. It should mend straight. And of course the other bruises will bother her a bit. But really, 'tis not so bad. She ought to be well enough to work again in less than a week."

"Good. My slave will be at work then." Tara's voice was as hard as flint. "I'll take it from here." The man frowned a bit, but turned and left nonetheless. She could see the disgust in his face, and she knew he thought her callused and cruel. She didn't care.

The door closed behind him. Tara waited a moment, her eyes fixed on the floor. Her body was still rigid. Then, with forced, jerky movements, she pushed away from the wall and moved over to the bunk where her slave lay. After a tortured pause, she slowly raised her eyes and looked at the girl's face.

The bridge of Epona's nose was swollen and bruised; the discoloration continued across her left cheekbone, in what would probably soon become an ugly black eye. Her lips were puffy. They had bled, too, but the only cut there was on the inside of her bottom lip. The dark curls were matted together with blood, and Tara could see the line of stitches that had closed a three-inch cut on her scalp.

With shaking hands, Tara took up the basin the doctor had been using. She dipped out the rag, wrung water from it, and gently bathed the pale little face. Then, carefully, she lifted up Epona's head and began to wash her hair. The water was soon cloudy and red. Silently, Tara went out, emptied the basin, refilled it with seawater, and resumed her task. When the black curls were clean, the warrior quietly took the pillow from the top bunk and laid Epona's battered head down on it. The old, scarlet-smeared cushion was tossed carelessly into a corner.

Tara sat down on the bunk.

_I've been a fighter all my life._ She stared down at her own hands without really seeing them. _I've killed hundreds – thousands. I've broken noses before. I've beaten people unconscious before. But I have never, ever felt like this._

It felt as though she had swallowed shards of broken glass. Her throat hurt – her chest hurt – her stomach hurt. Looking at Epona's face made it burn even worse. It was shame, and guilt, and…and self-hatred. Tara buried her face in her hands and groaned dismally. _She is like Maggie_, her mind whispered. _What did Maggie ever do to deserve to die like a dog in some back alley? Nothing. What has Epona ever done to deserve this from you? Nothing. And you – you nearly killed her!_ Tara writhed in agonies of self-reproach. _I should be horsewhipped._

A soft murmur caught Tara's attention. She spun around, throwing herself down on her knees by the bed, and bent over her slave. Epona was stirring a bit. A whimper passed her lips, and then her eyes opened a crack to peer up at her owner's face.

There was silence. Tara wanted to speak, wanted to comfort the girl, but the words wouldn't come. She slowly clasped one of the girl's small hands in hers. "I…don't believe in apologizing," the warrior said at last. "It never changes anything." Silence. Tara swallowed hard. "But I don't know what else to do." Her voice broke, and she stopped talking, struggling angrily against the tears that threatened.

Epona's hand twitched in hers. Then it pulled itself free. Tara let it go, too wretched to protest. Very gently, Epona trailed her fingers over the warrior's cheek. Her swollen lips moved. "Why?" she whispered. "I don't understand."

"What is there to understand?" Tara said miserably, still deep in the throes of self-hatred. "I'm a violent bitch."

"No." Epona's fingers stilled. "You always have reasons." There was pain in her expressive face, and fear, but her tone was still that quiet calm that it had been just before Tara had beaten her. Those liquid green eyes gazed into the warrior's. "Please tell me. Help me understand."

Where force had ever failed to defeat the warrior, persistent gentleness succeeded. Tara's forehead lowered onto Epona's chest. She felt the slave's dainty hand stroking her hair. _Gods. Even after everything, she still doesn't hate me. She should_. Hot tears of shame squeezed from her tightly-shut eyes. "I can't do it," she whispered brokenly. "Everything I've built…everything I've done, Epona…whether it's Ares or the Morrigan or one of a thousand others, I belong to the war gods. It's what I am. I've been theirs from birth." Tara drew in a deep, halting breath. "Falling in love and having families, and all that…it's for normal people. Not a soulless murderer like me."

The little slave peered at her quietly. "That's why you got mad?"

"Yes. Then you kept going. You made me angrier." The warrior gritted her teeth, her eyes still squeezed tight. "You challenged me. I…lost my temper."

The small fingers continued their soothing movements through Tara's fiery locks. "I had to," Epona murmured. "I had to _know,_ ma'am." Soft, weary laughter. "It's stupid, but I still do." At this, the warrior raised her head. The slave girl gave her a timid smile, and let her caressing hand slip down to rest against Tara's cheek. "Maybe my mistake was not asking you directly." Green eyes met the warrior's. Tara's breath caught. "I'm pretty sure that I'm in love with you," Epona said softly. "And I promise I won't ever bring it up again if you tell me not to, but I have to know. Even if you don't now…do you think you could ever care for me, ma'am?"

There was silence for a while. "Epona." Tara's voice was low. She turned her face away, unable to meet Epona's gaze any longer. Everything in her rebelled against answering the question, but she somehow found herself doing it anyway. "I don't know," she said. "I like having you around. You make me feel more than anything I've ever seen. You make me want to touch you and make you smile. But…I just don't think the Terror is capable of love, squirt."

The slim hand against Tara's face quivered. The warrior looked up and saw that tears were trickling silently down Epona's cheeks. The little slave sighed, closed her eyes, and let her arm fall onto the bed. Neither of them said anything for a while. "May I have some water, please, ma'am?" Epona whispered finally.

"Yeah." Tara got up and went to the bucket that held their day's ration of fresh water. She filled the dipper and carried it to the bunk. With infinite care, she cradled Epona's head in the crook of her arm and held the dipper to the girl's lips. Epona drank. When the water was gone, Tara set aside the vessel. "You shouldn't let yourself care about me the way you do," the warrior said then. "You should just try to be my slave. Serve me, obey me, let me take care of your needs." She gently stroked her fingertips over Epona's brow. "Do you really need more ways to make me angry?"

"No." Epona closed her eyes tiredly. "But I can't help how I feel, ma'am. It's not disobedience."

Tara sighed and lowered her head. "I know," she admitted. "You're a good girl, Epona. You really are." Her roughened fingers softly brushed under the slave's swollen left eye. Guilt welled up. "This can't happen again," she blurted. "It won't!" Epona looked up, and Tara met her gaze. "It won't," she said again, firmly. "Do you hear me? I won't ever hit you again."

The little slave stared at her in surprise. "You…won't?"

There was a pause. Tara hesitated. She realized the ramifications of the promise she'd just made. _It means I can't punish her the way I have been. It means giving up some of my control._ Then, holding Epona's gaze, the warrior gave a slow and deliberate nod. "I won't," she said quietly. "I never break my word, and I promise you – I'll never hit you again, Epona."

"Really?" The little slave looked awed.

"Really." Tara wanted to add some warning about obedience, but she abandoned the idea a moment later. _It's not necessary_. "Really," she repeated, stooping down to brush her lips against Epona's forehead. "Whatever happens, I'll never hit you again."

The young woman's hands slid down to cling to Tara's shirt sleeves. For a long time, they stayed that way, Tara cradling her slave's head gently in her arms. Finally, the warrior bent and softly kissed Epona's swollen lips. "You should rest now," she said. "Do you think that you can sleep?"

"Maybe," the slave whispered. "I'll try. My face kind of hurts, though. I think it'll be hard." The Gael gingerly laid the curly head back down on the pillow. Epona peered up at her with a pleading look. "Would you sing to me, ma'am?" she murmured. "I think it would help."

"Oh, you do, do you?" A flicker of amusement twitched Tara's lips. "All right. But we're not making this a habit, you understand?"

Epona gave a tiny smile. "Yes'm." She let her hand rest on Tara's larger one. "Would you sing me something in Gael?"

"Fine, fine." The warrior rubbed her eyes and thought a moment. Then, with a deep sigh, she began to sing.

"_Éiníní, éiníní, codalaígí codalaígí  
Éiníní, éiníní, codalaígí codalaígí_

Codalaígí, codalaígí cois an chlaí amuigh  
Cois an chlaí amuigh codalaígí, codalaígí  
Cois an chlaí amuigh, cois an chlaí amuigh

An londubh is an fiach dubh,  
téigí a chodladh, téigí a chodladh  
an chéirseach is an préachán,  
téigí a chodladh, téigí a chodladh

An spideog is an fhuiseog  
téigí a chodladh, téigí a chodladh  
an dreoilín is an smóilín,  
téigí a chodladh, téigí a chodladh."

Despite Epona's protests to the contrary, she was sound asleep by the time the last notes of the song faded into silence. Tara tucked the blanket up over the sleeping slave's shoulders. Then, sighing quietly, she swung herself up and settled onto the top bunk. She doubted she was going to sleep much that night.

Author's Note –

Translation of song

Little one, little one, sleep, sleep,  
Little one, little one, sleep, sleep.

Beside the wall outside, sleep, sleep,  
Beside the wall outside, beside the wall outside.  
Beside the wall outside, sleep, sleep,  
Beside the wall outside, beside the wall outside.

O, blackbird And crane  
Go to sleep, go to sleep  
-O thrush And crow  
Go to sleep, go to sleep.

The robin and the lark,  
Go to sleep, go to sleep,  
The wren and the warbler  
Go to sleep, go to sleep.


	50. Chapter 50

It was during times like this that Tara really saw the disadvantage of being a sailor. Normally when she was this upset, she would have gone off by herself into the woods so that she could be alone and try to process everything that had happened the night before. She needed to figure out what exactly had prompted her to viciously beat Epona, and what had motivated the passionate promise she'd made her afterward. She wanted to think about how she could maintain control of the smaller girl while still keeping her pledge of not striking her anymore. Then, too, she wanted to mull over the conversations they'd had, both before and after the savage attack. But Tara was stuck on _The Nereid_, and her work kept her rubbing shoulders with sailors and soldiers and slaves almost constantly. It was maddening.

Tara swung herself up the rigging, carrying most of her weight with her arms. The exercise helped to work off some of her frustrations. A rope that held the top part of the ship's tallest sail was beginning to fray, and she had volunteered for the dangerous job of replacing it, if only to take her mind off her problems for a while. A large coil of rope was slung over her shoulder. With three more powerful movements, Tara reached the damaged rope – just a few feet beneath the crow's nest – and settled herself in to examine the problem. _Fairly straightforward,_ she thought, running her eye over the torn bits. _The thing's just gotten old, and it's giving under the strain._ She unrolled a bit of rope from her coil and began to tie it skillfully in place.

The little slave hadn't spoken one more word about "love" that morning, and Tara suspected that she wasn't going to. She could still see the bitter disappointment that had clouded those moss-green eyes the night before. _But there's nothing I can do about that_. Tara jerked at the knot she was working on to test its strength. It didn't please her; she undid it and tied it again. _I'm not going to promise the kid that I'll start spouting poetry and mooning over her. If it's not in me, it's not in me. The runt wants something she can't have, and she'll just have to find a way to get over it._ The redhead tugged at the replacement knot, nodded to herself, and let herself down hand-over-hand to the other end of the frayed rope. _All the same…_ She sighed as she tied the second knot. _I kind of hate it when she cries. Damn me._

Now came the most dangerous part of this task – untying the fraying rope. If the replacement rope was too weak, or if Tara hadn't tied it correctly, it would snap; the flying ends of cable could kill her outright, or she could be thrown overboard by a flying spar. Normally the warrior would have relished the excitement, but now she found herself hesitating. _Who would take care of the kid if I got killed?_ Tara's hand rested on the knot for a moment. Then, steeling herself, she coldly pulled it loose. Its replacement held; she was safe. With a deep breath, she shimmied up to untie the other end.

"Tara." The Gael paused in the act of swinging herself down onto the deck. Captain Lucian stood a few yards away. His face was stern, and his arms were folded. "We need to talk. My quarters," he said shortly, before turning and heading for the room in question. Tara's brows lowered slightly. She considered for a moment; then she followed without a word.

The door closed behind her. Tara stood facing him, her arms hanging loosely at her sides, and regarded him coolly. The captain opened a small cabinet, withdrew a flask, and poured amber liquid into two cups. He handed her one; Tara accepted it without a word, and tasted. The strong burn of alcohol flooded her mouth. "I'll cut to the chase," he said, taking a mouthful of his drink. "You likely prefer it that way." The redhead said nothing. "The ship's doctor came to me last night. He tells me your slave girl needed some attention."

"That's right." Tara tossed back the rest of the alcohol and set the cup down.

Captain Lucian paused. His expression was grave. "She belongs to you," he said, "so I'm not going to tell you how to discipline her, or what to discipline her for. But this is _my_ ship." His brows lowered, and he looked Tara in the eye. "This is _my_ ship, and I don't want that child killed on board. So if you intend to beat her to death, warrior, then we'll let you off at the next port."

Tara paused, momentarily confused by her own reactions. She normally would have been furious at the intrusion into her business. She felt a bit of irritation, but what welled up from her gut now was mostly guilt. For a moment, she saw Epona's patient, battered little face again. Tara scowled and looked down. "I'm not going to kill her."

"You're sure about that?" The captain folded his arms again. "Because I was told that you'd beaten her about the head and face, and that you didn't seem very concerned about her well-being afterward."

"How the hell would he know what 'concerns' me?" Tara snarled, with a flash of anger. "My slave sassed me, so yeah, I punished her for it. And if I wasn't fucking 'concerned,' I wouldn't have asked that pompous ass to look at her in the first place."

He studied her in silence for a moment or two. "How is the child?"

"Fine," Tara said coldly. "She's got a broken nose and a headache. She's resting today, she'll be up and around tomorrow, and back in the kitchen the day after that. Satisfied, Captain?"

His brows lifted. There was silence for a while. "I can see why you got out of the sailing game, Tara," he said at length. There was a hint of wry amusement in his voice.

Tara inclined her head. "It wasn't the best fit. I don't play well with others."

"So I see." He rubbed his nose. "I'm going to let that bit of insubordination go this time, since you are a civilian and a foreigner. But watch your step, Tara. I wasn't joking when I said you'd be disciplined the same as the rest of my men." She frowned, but said nothing. "I'm allowing you to go off-duty an hour early so that you can take care of your slave. That will be all, Tara. You may go back to your work."

Chastised like a naughty schoolgirl. Tara's lip curled a little, but she nodded curtly and turned away. She had, after all, agreed to be under this man's command. _And besides,_ she reminded herself harshly, _you deserve it, after what you did to the squirt. She might have been challenging you, but that was overkill, even for you._

When the time finally came for Tara to leave her work, she didn't go straight to where Epona was resting. Instead, she scaled the rigging as nimbly as a monkey, right up to where the crow's nest swayed at the top of the tallest mast. No one was there. The warrior swung herself into it. There she sat, one long arm draped over a guardrail, and gazed out at the open sea. She needed time to think.

_Okay. So I promised I wouldn't hit Epona anymore. I don't regret that._ With a slight wince at certain memories. _But I am still her master, and I do still need to stay on top of things. What'll I do to discipline her when she needs it?_ Tara's dark eyes idly followed the flight of a sea bird. They were sailing parallel to the shoreline, which was just visible to her right. _There's the shackles. She hates those, so that's an option_. The warrior rubbed her chin. _I could confine her to our room, at least while we're still on this ship. I could make her sleep on the floor_. Her lips curved. _Really, I guess I have a lot of options. Just a matter of giving it some thought_.

Tara looked up at the sky. The sun was sinking lower, but the sky was still blue, broken only by small wisps of white cloud. She thought about Epona's words. _"I'm pretty sure that I'm in love with you…do you think you could ever care for me?"_ The wistful hope in those beautiful green eyes – the hope that Tara had quietly, deliberately crushed. The warrior sighed and rubbed her eyes. _The kid's a romantic. Of course she is. And maybe it doesn't matter so very much right now, but in the next couple of years, it's probably going to be a problem. She needs something I can't give her._ Her brow creased. _If I were a normal slave owner, I'd build her a little hut on my property and buy a strapping young fellow to breed her with – but I'm not. I don't have a home, and it wouldn't work to get another slave. So what'll I do?_ Tara frowned. _When things like this came up with Clytie and Mariel, I just freed them. But Epona's branded…and besides, I want her with me._

The warrior shook herself and rose to her feet. _No matter. There's plenty of time to think about that later. I'll just worry about getting us to Gaelis and out of reach of the Amazons, first. And, for now…_ She grasped the guardrail, pressed her body out of the crow's nest, and began to shimmy down the ropes to the deck. _For now, I have a little mouse to feed_.

The galley was gearing up for the coming influx of hungry sailors. Tara stood in the doorway of the kitchen itself until she caught the eye of the ship's cook, a somewhat scrawny-looking Romusi whose name eluded her. There was definite hostility in his gaze. _Huh. I suppose he's heard what the horrible Gael bitch did to her poor little slave, too. Story's probably all over this damn ship._ "I'm here to get Epona's dinner," she said shortly.

"Ah." His brows lowered a bit more, but he made no comment.

Tara watched as he filled a plate with fish, dried meat and bread. When he handed it to her, she hesitated. "Is there anything more, ah…" The cook scowled outright, and she scratched her ear awkwardly. "The kid likes sweets," she mumbled. "Thought she could use something like that."

The cook studied her for a moment. Then he strode to a barrel, took something out of it, and dropped it on the plate in Tara's hands. She looked; it was a brown lump of sugar, about the size of a coin. "Just you make sure it gets to her, woman," he growled. Before Tara could respond, he had gone back to his work. She considered sneering something at him. She wound up giving him a disgusted look instead. Without further comment, the Gael turned away and headed for her quarters.

Epona was dozing when Tara arrived. The warrior paused to watch the girl for a moment. The swelling of her lips had disappeared, but the bridge of her nose was still puffy. The bruising had darkened since that morning; it now encompassed Epona's nose and all of her left eye socket. Tara sighed. Then she approached the bunk and carefully set the plate on the girl's belly. She took care to palm the lump of sugar first. "Epona."

Green eyes blinked drowsily open. "Is it night already?"

"Not quite." Tara smiled quietly. "I've brought you some supper. Sit up and eat." The little slave sat up readily enough. She didn't seem unsteady at all. Tara peered at Epona closely as the girl began to nibble on her fish. "How are you feeling? Are you dizzy at all? Does your head still hurt?"

"I sort of had a headache in the morning, but it went away this afternoon," Epona said. "My nose kind of aches. But I'm all right, ma'am."

The warrior went to get a dipperful of water for the girl to drink. "It's good that you feel better," she said ruefully, as she passed the dipper into Epona's hands. "You look like you've been trampled by a horse."

"Is it that bad?" The slave paused and gingerly touched her swollen nose. "What do I look like?"

"Bruised, mostly. Black and blue." Tara felt acutely uncomfortable. "Drink," she said gruffly. "Then I'll get you some more." Epona obeyed, and her owner went to refill the dipper.

The two were silent for a while after that. The little slave ate about half of what Tara had brought. Then she slowed down, and would have stopped, but her owner coaxed six or seven more mouthfuls into her. "All right," Tara relented finally. "I guess you've had enough to earn a little reward."

Epona looked up from her plate curiously. "Reward?"

"Yep." The warrior brought out the lump of sugar with a grin. "The cook sent you a bit of a present."

"Ooo!" Epona's eyes lit up as she took it. "What a nice thing for Bastien to do." She broke the sweet in half and took a tiny bite out of the edge of one piece. "Mm." Small fingers held out the other half. Tara looked up to find green eyes smiling at her. "Would you like to share, ma'am?" Epona asked shyly.

_Ah, the heck with it_. "Sure." Tara gave a sudden, wicked grin. Instead of taking the sugar with her hand, she bent down and took it in her mouth, capturing the slim fingers between her teeth. Epona's eyes widened as her owner sucked. "Mm," Tara growled, releasing the digits. "You're right. That is good."

The slave giggled feebly as Tara gave her fingertips a parting lick. "You're so silly sometimes."

"Only with you. And only once in a while." The warrior shot her a threatening look. "And you'd better keep that to yourself, too, runty rodent. I would be _very upset_ if that little detail got out."

Epona's lips curved. "Don't worry, ma'am," she said softly. "Your secret's safe with me." She trailed her fingertips lightly over her owner's lips, which still hovered close to her hand. "Did you mean what you said last night?" the slave asked suddenly. "I mean about my being a good girl, and how you like to make me smile."

Tara rested her chin on her hand. "I don't tend to say things I don't mean, squirt," she said mildly, taking Epona's fingers from her mouth and playing with them. "So yes, I do think you're a good girl. Don't let it go to your head."

The smaller girl's brow creased. "Why do you get so angry at me if you think I'm good?"

The warrior smiled grimly. "If you'll remember, I also said I was a violent bitch."

Epona was silent for a while. Tara continued to toy idly with the slim hand, marveling at how delicate and smooth it was in contrast to her own. The slave's skin was beginning to roughen a little from all the hard work, but it was still far softer than the warrior's. "Then what can I do when you're mad?" Epona asked in a small voice. "I say I'm sorry. I ask you not to hurt me, but that just seems to upset you more, ma'am."

"I said I wasn't going to hit you anymore," Tara muttered.

"I know." The slave waited.

Scowling, the warrior shifted and looked away. "I don't know what would calm me down when I'm really pissed off," she said. "My best advice to you is to just shut up if you see I'm starting to get mad. Say nothing. I don't know if it'd save you once I got good and choked, but it might keep me from getting to that point in the first place."

The little slave considered this. "Okay," she murmured. "But I'd still better answer you if you ask me questions, right?"

"Oh, hell yeah. Unless they're rhetorical." Tara released the small fingers and, without lifting her chin from her own hand, laid a fingertip very gently against the end of Epona's nose. "Let's talk about something else, now. This is depressing." Epona's nose wrinkled a bit, and she met Tara's gaze questioningly. "Tell me a story. Make one up. Make it a bit more cheerful one than that water nymph one, all right?"

"Cheerful. Okay." Epona pondered this for a moment. "There once was a small Argonian town, near Sarmatia. It was tucked away in the middle of nowhere; it was mostly made up of farmers."

Tara grinned. "Prime pickings."

Epona batted her lightly, like a kitten swatting a ball of yarn. The warrior subsided with a smirk. "There was a snug little house on the outskirts of the town. In the house, there lived a farmer and his wife, and their daughter, Hester." The slave was beginning to lose herself in her story. Tara watched with some pleasure as Epona began to gesture unconsciously. _Just look at the kid's eyes. They practically glow when she really gets into it. Pretty._ "Hester had always been different from the other girls in her village. Where the other little girls all talked about marrying and settling down in town, Hester loved to read stories about kings and palaces and faraway lands."

"Oh yeah?" Tara had slipped into the narrow bunk with Epona while the girl was speaking, and now pulled the slim form closer to her. "Did Hester have curly hair and green eyes, little mouse?"

"Ma'am." The little slave let her head rest on Tara's chest and peered up at her solemnly. "It's sort of hard to tell a story if I can't concentrate." There was a hesitant tone to her voice – it was almost fearful. Tara raised a brow, and Epona looked down. "I can't tell as good a story if I get interrupted a lot," she murmured.

"No?" With a soft touch, Tara tugged on a curl or two. "Then I'll just have to beat up anybody who interrupts you." Epona slowly raised her eyes again. Tara grinned. "Go on, kid. Tell me about Hester."

There was slight tension in the slender body, but the little slave lay quietly enough in her owner's arms. "Okay." Epona paused briefly before she continued. "One day, Sarmatian raiders attacked the village and destroyed it. Many of the townspeople died, but Hester and a few other young people were taken prisoner. The time soon came for the raiders to divide the spoils. A warrior woman saw Hester and decided to take her as a slave; so Hester was brought back to the woman's house in chains." Epona shifted in Tara's arms and settled herself more comfortably. "This woman's name was Sadira. Although she was a strong warrior and well-respected among her people, she had never married. Sadira had sworn that no man would ever conquer her."

"Smart woman," Tara muttered. The little slave gave a brief smile.

The story continued. "Sadira put Hester to work in her house, cooking and cleaning." Epona's fingers played lightly over the muscle of Tara's forearm. "At first, Hester was very sad. She grieved for her parents and her village, and the language and customs of Sarmatia were strange to her."

"Thought this was going to be a cheerful story." The warrior's brows lifted.

"The story's not _over_ yet," Epona sighed, batting Tara's arm again. "If there weren't any problems in it, it'd be boring." Tara chuckled and fell silent. She enjoyed teasing the smaller girl, but she really did want to hear the story. "Anyway, Hester was sad. But she knew she didn't have a choice, so she worked hard and tried to learn how to be happy in her new home." The slave had resumed her absent caress of Tara's arm. Tara watched the stroking fingers as she listened. "It was hard, because Sadira was a hard woman. She only spoke to Hester to give orders and to scold; she never gave her comforting words. But Hester was very brave. So she did her work well, and spoke softly to Sadira, and prayed to the gods to send her a friend."

Tara wondered just how autobiographical this story was. Was Epona praying for a friend, she wondered? She thought of how the girl had wept over losing Bram. _Poor kid. Gods, I really am all she's got…maybe I should try to make things easier for her, or something. Not sure how, though._ She reached up to stroke the curly head that lay against her.

"Months passed," Epona murmured. "One day, Sadira went away to battle. They brought her back on her shield, badly wounded and out of her mind with fever. There was no one but Hester to take care of her; no one loved Sadira." The slave's fingers paused in their stroking of Tara's arm. "Hester thought about running away," she said softly. "But then she saw that Sadira had no one, just like her, and she couldn't bring herself to abandon her. So she bound up the warrior's wounds and nursed her. It took weeks, but Sadira finally began to recover." Epona cuddled her head into Tara's body. "It was hard. Hester had to work long hours to take care of the warrior and the house, and Sadira's temper was as short as ever. But then something incredible started to happen."

"Hester grew a cute little mouse tail?" Tara chuckled and slipped her hand down to pat the slave's rear. Epona squirmed, giving her a reproachful look. The warrior grinned and kissed the girl's cheek unrepentantly. "Go on. Tell me what happened, _beag luch."_

"Sadira started to soften," the little slave said simply. "She saw how faithfully Hester had worked, and how gently she tended her wounds. As she regained her strength, Sadira began to talk to Hester. The slave found that Sadira knew a lot of stories. Since she'd traveled a lot, the warrior knew a lot of things about faraway countries, too. Hester would bring her mending into Sadira's room in the evenings, and the two of them would talk." Epona drew her fingertip slowly down Tara's shirt front. "And then, one morning, Hester suddenly realized something amazing."

"What's that?" Tara wanted to know.

Grave green eyes met the warrior's brown ones. "She saw that the gods had answered her prayers," she said softly. "They had given her a friend. But it wasn't what she had expected."

Tara was silent for a moment. "When you're dealing with the Argonian gods," she said, "you usually won't get what you bargain for. They love being real bastards."

At this, Epona opened her eyes wide. "Have you dealt with the gods?" she whispered.

"Nope," Tara said flatly. "Won't, either. I'm a Gael, and I'm pledged to the Morrigan. I don't care how long I hung out in Argonia – I wasn't one of theirs." Her eyes darkened as she spoke. "That pissed them off a bit."

"You've _talked_ to them!?" The slave's eyes were comically huge.

The warrior shifted uncomfortably and frowned up at the bunk above them. "A couple of times," she admitted finally. "But you're not to run around telling people about that, you understand? I keep it quiet for a reason." She caught the slave's eye and gave a warning scowl. "You tell no one."

Epona's lower lip poked out a bit, but she nodded her agreement. "Okay…but what happened? Why'd they talk to you? What'd they say? Which ones were they? How come you…"

"That's enough." Tara sternly rested her fingers over the little slave's mouth, silencing the flow of questions. "There's been enough storytelling for one day. And I'm hungry, so I'm going to go and get some grub before the locusts devour it all." Epona fell silent, but her pleading look spoke volumes. The warrior gave a deep sigh and released the girl's lips. "Look, I promise I'll tell you all about it sometime, okay? I'm just not in the mood." She dropped a kiss on Epona's soft mouth. "Good story," she said. "You take a rest while I go eat. I'll be back when I'm done, all right?" And she began to extricate herself from the bunk.

The slave girl lay back on her pillow with ill-disguised impatience. "All right, ma'am," she said. Then, with a pained look, "But you really promise to tell me about it?"

"I will."

"When?"

"Later." Tara smirked as Epona groaned. "Maybe tomorrow, if we get time. All right?" The slave girl brightened visibly at this. With a rueful chuckle, Tara turned away and headed out in search of her supper.


	51. Chapter 51

Tara glowered at the world in general. She hated guard duty above all the other tasks on this ship. She'd managed to get out of her shifts for an entire week by trading hours of work with the other sailors, but her luck had finally run out today. So here she was, standing by the door of the close, smelly slave galley with her sword strapped to her side.

_Ugh._ The warrior folded her arms across her chest and shuddered. She hated captivity of any kind, and that included being stuck with a bunch of prisoners for hours on end. Her dark eyes moved disgustedly over her surroundings.

The place was essentially a big wooden box lined with short benches for the slaves to sit on. They were all male, dressed in rough sackcloth tunics or loincloths. There were four prisoners to a bench; they were shackled to their places by their ankles. The ship's huge oars stretched out in front of the slaves, at chest level. The only air and light that filtered into the place came from the portholes through which the oars extended. Tara had brought a torch with her, since it was nighttime. Its flame cast everything in stark contrasts of black and reddish gold.

It was very quiet. Most of the slaves were asleep, and the few that weren't simply slumped resignedly in their places and stared. These were broken men. Tara shuddered again. _I couldn't stand it,_ she thought. _I'd fall on my own sword if I thought this was my only alternative. My afterlife couldn't be any worse than that, even if it is in Tartarus, or Hell, or whatever._

Tara shifted her weight and muffled a sigh. _Two hours to go_. She wished she was in her breezy cabin, curled up on a bunk with her slave girl's warm little body cuddled in her arms. Or, better yet, lying under the stars on a bedroll. _Still with Epona, though_, she thought. _Need my personal bedwarmer and storyteller, after all._ She pictured the girl's face – asleep and awake, smiling and grave, thoughtful and curious. Tara sighed again. _This would be so much better if she were here. She could at least entertain me_.

Footsteps. Tara's ears pricked up. It was too light to be a sailor's tread. Her head swiveled toward the door beside her, just as someone softly knocked on it. With a frown, Tara opened it a crack. Timid green eyes peered up at her. "Are you busy, ma'am?" Epona whispered. "I thought you might like something to drink." And she held up a flask.

The warrior frowned, even as she felt a flood of relief. "You're not supposed to come down here, you sneaky runt," she said gruffly.

"I know," the slave said humbly. "I'll go back if you want. I just…" Epona kicked one sandaled foot nervously at the ground. "I know you don't like doing this, ma'am. I thought you might like some company."

Tara stared at her. _Maybe the damn kid is an oracle, after all. She practically read my mind._ "Well, all right," she said, affecting reluctance. "You can stay. But the minute it's a problem, you're leaving, understand?" Epona nodded, and Tara opened the door to allow her into the slave galley.

Once inside, Epona took a long, slow look around. The warrior eyed her coolly, waiting for the inevitable reproach, but it didn't come; the little slave quietly held up the flask. "Here, ma'am," she murmured. "And…I got you something else."

"Oh?" Tara uncorked the flask and sniffed it. The smell of diluted alcohol wafted to her nose. She raised an inquisitive brow at the slave girl.

"Yeah." Epona blushed deeply enough that Tara could see it, even in the firelight. With a small, pleased smile, the slave fumbled at her belt and held out a pouch. "I traded for it with some stories," she said softly. "I thought you might like it, since you lost yours when the Amazons took our things."

Tara took it with a puzzled frown. It was fairly heavy for its size. She tugged the neck of the pouch open and reached in; smooth stone met her fingertips. She held the object up to the light, and found it to be a pipe with a wooden stem. Tara's brows lifted in astonishment. She looked down at the slave again. Epona smiled at her hopefully. "There's some tobacco in the pouch, too," she said. "It's not a lot, but it's all I could get." She paused. "Do you like it, ma'am?"

With an effort, Tara recovered herself. "Um, yeah. Yes, it's fine." She paused awkwardly. "Thank you."

The little slave stood up on her tiptoes, put her arms around Tara's neck, and pulled her down to kiss her cheek. "You're welcome," she said softly. She glanced around at the silent slaves, and then back up at Tara. "Can we sit down, or do you have to stand?"

"Better if I stand," Tara said quietly. "I'm guarding. Have to be ready for trouble if it comes." She shrugged a bit. "You can sit if you like, little mouse."

"Okay." Epona sounded relieved. "My legs are tired. I worked pretty hard today." She sat down on the floor nearby. For a few moments, there was silence. Tara tucked the pipe back in its pouch and stowed it away in a pocket for later use. "Would you like me to tell you a story, ma'am?"

Tara looked. The girl's green eyes were wide and innocent, but she'd spoken just a trifle louder than she needed to. The warrior glanced at the slaves. The few who were awake were regarding Epona with veiled interest now. Tara grimaced and looked back at her little slave. _Don't think for a second that I don't know what you're up to, you sly little rodent, you._ She considered refusing the request. Then, relenting, the warrior grunted and shrugged. "Sure. Beats staring at the wall for two hours."

The small girl smiled and hugged her knees to her chest. "What do you think would be best? I can tell one about Aeneas, maybe. Or Orestes and his ocean voyage…or I could make one up."

The warrior knew what Epona was really asking – what would the galley slaves prefer to hear? Tara glanced coldly at the prisoners. They were about evenly split between Argonians and Romusis. They were probably here as punishment, serving virtual death sentences for whatever crimes they'd committed. She doubted any of them would be interested in epic adventure tales involving ocean travel. _Men in prison want to hear about home and family, or so I hear._ "Tell me a love story," she said quietly. "Maybe something in a little village somewhere."

"Okay." Epona thought for a moment. "There was once a town out in the countryside…"

The slave's voice continued, but Tara wasn't really listening anymore. She studied the girl's animated face as she spoke. _What kind of a person gives up hours of sleep after a hard day's work just to bring me a drink and tell stories to galley slaves?_ Her brows lowered. _I don't understand it. Why do it? It's not as if hearing a story will change anything for these prisoners. It changes nothing._ Her brown eyes shifted to regard the galley slaves. Four or five of them were listening, some intently, some with disinterest. _I guess it might make them feel it all a bit less for a while. Maybe that's worth it to her, the gods only know why._

Epona's soft green eyes met Tara's, and the slave smiled briefly. Tara's heart leaped. She found her own lips curving before she could stop them. It was only a moment. Epona's gaze went back to the silent audience, and she continued her story, leaving Tara staring at her in bewilderment. _What in the hell was that?_ She could still feel her heartbeat racing. Her palms seemed to be damp, as well. Scowling, Tara wiped them on her trousers. _What's wrong with me? Am I sick or something?_ She stole another glance at the little slave. Epona was gesturing enthusiastically – her face was shining with enjoyment. The sight brought Tara a warm glow of pleasure.

After a while, Epona stopped talking and looked up at her expectantly. Tara blinked and realized that the girl must have just asked her a question. "Uh…what?"

The slave's brow creased. "I asked if you wanted me to go," she said softly, "or if you'd like me to tell you more stories, ma'am."

"Oh." The warrior glanced at her torch, noting how far it had burned down, and estimated she still had over an hour to go. "You can stay," she said gruffly. "Tell me a Herkules story, rodent."

Epona's eyes smiled. "I'll tell the one with the Nemean Lion," she murmured. "You like that one, right, ma'am?"

She told it. Tara listened this time. The little slave had been right; Tara _did_ love the story of Herkules and the Nemean Lion. It was her favorite of all the trials of Herkules. She found herself lost in the story, fascinated by the rise and fall of Epona's voice, and all the subtle changes in the girl's face. When it was over, Epona flowed right into another tale without asking – this time, the story of "Raven" and Matty. Tara listened, spellbound.

There was silence when the story was over. Tara was jolted back to reality by footsteps just outside the galley. She jerked to attention as the door opened. A sailor entered and paused, his brow furrowing as his gaze fell on Epona. The little slave gave him a sweet smile. "Hi," she said brightly. "You must be here to relieve us, huh?"

The sailor looked at Tara in puzzlement. She returned his gaze coolly, having managed to regain her composure. "We'll leave you to it," she said curtly. Her dark eyes flicked to the smaller girl. "Come, Epona. Time to sleep." Epona scrambled up and trotted after her obediently.

Neither of them spoke on the way back to their quarters. Tara still felt off-balance. Between that odd jolt she'd felt and the strange spell Epona had seemed to weave over her, the warrior was honestly beginning to wonder if she was losing her mind. She scowled down at the planks beneath her feet as she walked. _Maybe I'm just overtired,_ she mused. _I have been working pretty hard. But…being tired's never had this effect on me before_.

"Ma'am?" The tentative little voice came to Tara's ears as she shut the door of their cabin behind them. She looked, and found Epona peering at her nervously. The slave bit her lip. "Are you angry with me?"

Tara frowned. "No. I'm not." She shrugged her shoulders. "I'm just…thinking."

"Okay." The girl moved forward hesitantly and laid her hands against the warrior's belly. "Then…maybe you could tell me about when you talked to the gods, ma'am?" Green eyes looked at her hopefully.

"Nah," Tara mumbled. "I'm tired." The slave's gaze dropped, and she gave a disappointed sigh. Tara scowled. _Damn it. I did promise her I'd tell her, and I've been putting her off for days._ She gave a sigh of her own. "Fine," she grumbled. "But there really isn't that much to tell." Epona's face brightened. She perched herself on the bottom bunk and waited expectantly. Tara rubbed her eyes tiredly. "Okay. Uh…well, it happened twice that I know of," she said quietly. "Once was on my last voyage sailing with Dom and Lenis. We ran into a nasty storm on the Aegean. All hands were on deck, just trying to keep the damn ship from running onto the rocks. It was the middle of the night…and then I saw Poseidon."

"Really?" Epona wriggled in excitement. "What'd he look like? Did he have a fish tail? Was he huge?"

The warrior shrugged and rubbed the back of her neck. "Actually, he appeared as just a white-haired old man," she said quietly. "But I knew what he was. You always know, with gods." The little slave listened eagerly. "He was just leaning on a mast and watching me work, like he found the whole thing funny. He asked me what I was willing to do to save the lives of everyone on that ship." Tara's lips tightened. "I told him I was going to work my ass off and do my damn job as a sailor, and could he please quit playing games and go do whatever the hell it was he was going to do."

Epona's eyes widened. "Why did you do that, ma'am? He could have stopped the storm."

"I did that," Tara said dryly, "because I know what gods are like, and I wasn't interested in being a pawn in whatever little game he was playing. Told him so, too." The warrior shrugged. "He just laughed at me and disappeared. Storm cleared up about an hour after that."

"Wow." The little slave stared at her.

Tara shrugged again. "And the other time happened just before I led the men against the Amazons, after Vasilus got wounded," she said. "I was in my tent planning out our attack that night. And suddenly, there was Artemis."

"Ooooh." Epona bit her lip. "Aren't the Amazons hers?"

"Yep," Tara said, "although I didn't really know who she was at the time. She was pretty pissed. She gave me some doom-and-gloom speech about how I didn't want to make her an enemy, and if I lifted my hand against her Amazons she'd see to it that I was destroyed for it, and blah blah blah. And then, before I could even answer her, Ares appeared." Epona's eyes grew rounder. "Yeah. I didn't exactly know who he was, either, but I know a war god when I see one. Anyway, the two of them started arguing over destinies and bloodlines and all that sort of bullshit. Seemed to be fighting over who would get control of me." The warrior smiled like a shark. "I stood up, told them that I was trying to plan a damn battle, and I didn't need the help of any meddling deities, and so could they shut the hell up and get out of my tent, unless they planned on zapping me or something."

Epona squeaked in alarm. "Ma'am, they could have killed you for that!"

Tara's eyes twinkled a bit. "Artemis wanted to," she said calmly. "But I think Ares kind of liked it. Anyway, they wound up leaving when they saw I wasn't going to play with them. Artemis was still telling me all about how she was going to ruin me." Tara snorted and shrugged. "Whatever. I spanked her little Amazons pretty good the next day, so I don't think much of her divine wrath." The little slave lowered her eyes and bit her lip. Tara frowned. "Anyway, now you've heard the story, so you can quit bugging me about it, all right?"

"Yes, ma'am. Thank you." The slave looked thoughtful. "How come you don't want people to know about this?"

Tara shoved her hands into her pockets. "Because I've worked hard all my life to learn how to fight, and how to read, and how to do everything I know how to do," she said coldly. "And I won't give the credit for that to anybody else, be they gods or no. I belong to the war gods, because I'm probably their creation to some extent; but what I can do, I can do because I work my ass off, not because some god showered me with presents. And not because some god sired me, either." She jabbed herself in the chest with her thumb. "I developed my own skills. My accomplishments are _mine."_

The little slave nodded thoughtfully. "I think I understand."

"Good. We won't have to talk about it anymore, then." The warrior turned her back on Epona and began to unbuckle her sword. "Now let's get some damn sleep, already."

Small fingers suddenly slid beneath Tara's. The warrior stopped in surprise, watching stupidly as her slave finished the work for her. Epona reverently laid the sheathed blade in its place. Then the slim hands began to work on Tara's shirt. Tara raised a cool brow. "Forward tonight, aren't we?"

"This should be my job," Epona said softly. "I'm your personal slave, right? I should be helping you dress and drawing your baths and things." Her fingers paused and rested against Tara's chest, and she peered up at her. "Unless…you don't want me to?" she faltered.

The warrior looked down at the hands that lay against her half-opened shirt. A slow smile twitched at her mouth. "If you think I'm going to object to your undressing me, _beag luch,_ you and I are going to need to have a talk," she said.

Epona smiled shyly and continued to work on the laces of the garment. Tara examined the girl's face. The bruising had faded, but there were still traces of tan and light green beneath the girl's left eye. The Gael studied it as her shirt was drawn off. Dainty fingers slid along her waistband and began to tug at the ties. Tara lifted her hands to cup Epona's face as the rest of her clothing fell away; she drew her thumb gently along the faded bruising on the girl's cheek. "Whose job is it to undress you, dutiful little slave of mine?" she murmured.

The slave girl's face colored prettily. She peered at Tara through her black lashes. "Yours?" she said hesitantly.

"Nope." Tara calmly slid her hands beneath Epona's shirt and pulled it over her head. Her palms slid down the slave's naked back afterward, from her lean shoulders to the dip of her spine, and rested at the waistband of her short leggings. "It's not my job to undress you, little mouse," Tara said. "It's my pleasure."

"Is it?" Epona whispered. Her arms encircled Tara's powerful waist. The warrior felt the girl's breath warming the skin between her breasts.

A surge of animal desire flooded Tara's body. It was as intense as the strange jolt she'd felt earlier, but not confusing at all; Tara knew exactly what to do with it. She bent to capture Epona's lips with her own. With tolerable skill, she eased down the slave's trousers and maneuvered her onto the bottom bunk, without once ceasing her exploration of Epona's mouth. By the time their lips parted, the little slave was gasping.

Tara was always willing to undergo hardships to get what she wanted, and she'd faced countless discomforts in her life without flinching. The plain fact was, however, that Tara was a hedonist. She loved her comforts. And right now, braced on the narrow bunk with her arms full of warm, soft skin, Tara could feel her inner pleasure hound growling its approval. She let some of her weight rest on the little slave, giving a growl of her own at the contact of their bodies. "I'm going to make you beg, little mouse," she purred, and bent her head to capture an earlobe between her lips.

"Promise?" Epona was still breathing hard. She wrapped her arms around Tara's neck and tugged her over to kiss her lips. "Mm."

There were changes in the slender body pinned beneath hers. There were firm muscles developing beneath the girl's smooth skin. There had always been a certain frailty about Epona, but now her form was starting to feel solid under Tara's hands. The warrior nipped lightly at a tempting shoulder. "You're getting stronger."

"Am I?" The little slave pressed herself against her owner and buried her face into the side of her neck. "I thought I was, but I wasn't really sure."

"You are." Tara brushed her lips down the side of Epona's face and dipped her tongue into the hollow at the base of her throat. She heard the smaller girl's breath catch at this, and smiled. "Maybe I'll start teaching you the dagger again. Hone those cute little muscles of yours."

Green eyes glowed softly. "You really think I'm cute?"

A dark brow quirked. "You calling me a liar, runt?"

Epona gave her a worried look. "N-no…I just…"

Tara chuckled suddenly and kissed her, shifting her weight so she could slide her hand from Epona's knee to her hip. Talk ceased after that. Tara's touch grew more intimate, and she felt the slave's hands fumble as she tried to reciprocate. She chuckled breathlessly against the girl's bare collarbone. _Gods, she's so damned adorable!_ Then she lost herself in a haze of passion.

Later, a profoundly drowsy Tara tugged the slave's slim body on top of her own and pulled the rough blanket over both of them. Epona cuddled her head underneath her owner's chin and gave a soft sight of contentment. The warrior sank down into a fog of sleep. "Thank you for the story, ma'am," she heard Epona whisper. "And thank you for letting me tell mine."

"Mm," Tara mumbled, too sleepy to really respond. "Welcome. G'night." Her last thought before consciousness faded completely was a sense of simple happiness that seemed to center on the slender girl in her arms.


	52. Chapter 52

Tara's eyes snapped open.

Faint light was filtering into their cabin through the porthole, but that wasn't what had wakened her. The room was tossing and rocking crazily. The usual moan of waves and wind had risen to a dull roar; her body stiffened, and her eyes widened. "Shit," she whispered. The world suddenly lurched! Only the warrior's honed reflexes saved her and Epona from being thrown violently out of their bunk. Tara managed to catch at the bedframe at the last moment. "Shit!" she said again.

The little slave was clutching at her; the dim light revealed eyes wide with panic and confusion. "Wh-what's happening?" Epona gasped out.

"Storm," Tara said curtly. She quickly disengaged herself from her lover's lean body and began to pull on her clothes, her legs braced against the violent movements of the floor. The room bucked suddenly, and she was thrown against the wall – her head cracked against it. "Ow! Damn it."

"Are you okay?" The warrior looked up to see the slave clinging to the bedframe. Epona's fear was obvious, but she was still looking at Tara in concern. Tara grunted and jerked her head in a nod. "What do we do?" the small girl pleaded.

Tara scowled at her. _"We_ don't do anything," she growled. "You stay here, understand? Hold on to something so you don't get hurt. You're no sailor – you'd just be in the way." Epona nodded fearfully, her little knuckles white against the wood she was clinging to. The warrior scooped up the girl's clothes from the floor and tossed them onto the bunk beside her. "Get dressed," she said shortly. "If the ship starts breaking up or something, I'll come get you. Otherwise, you stay put where it's safe. Understand?"

"Yes, ma'am." Epona was visibly shaking. She fumbled at her tunic and pulled it over her head. Mens' voices raised up, barely audible over the shriek of the storm – _All hands on deck! All hands on deck!_ Tara cursed softly. She slipped forward and gave Epona's arm a reassuring squeeze. Then, without another word, she ducked out of the snug cabin.

The rain struck her like a wall. Within seconds, Tara was soaked through. It was hard to see; she tossed a drenched fringe of hair back from her eyes and peered out. The sky was mostly black, with only a few small patches of lighter gray peeking through. The roiling ocean was as dark as pitch, but she could see the angry, glistening waves that were tossing _The Nereid_ about like a hapless twig. She could hear the ominous creaking of wood, and the yells of the sailors. Tara looked around quickly, caught sight of a group trying desperately to lower a sail, and leaned into the wind as she charged over to help them.

It was chaos. The wind was screaming all around them. Rain sluiced down in sheets, until it was hard to tell where the sea ended and the sky began. Tara caught hold of the rope the sailors were fruitlessly tugging at and hauled on it with all the strength she could muster. The spar turned, and some of the strain on the sail lessened. Tara saw another group of sailors hurriedly untie knots; the sail dropped. Exhausted cheers broke from the throats of the men.

Three of the four sails had already been taken down. The fourth was still billowing, driving the ship blindly through the angry seas. Tara scrambled over the wildly-bucking deck toward it. The wind shrieked suddenly louder, and the deck heaved! Tara just barely managed to grab hold of something. She heard screams, and knew with a chilling finality that someone had gone overboard. A wave crashed over the side of the ship – for a moment, Tara was up to her knees in rushing seawater. She nearly fell. With dogged determination, she hauled herself up and struggled toward the creaking sail.

The ship lurched, and suddenly she found herself scrambling up a steep incline. Tara lunged and caught at the ship's railing; a man tumbled past her, screaming. She tried to catch at him, but he was too far away – he vanished into the darkness below. Water yawned like a valley beneath the ship. Darting a glance upward, Tara saw the crest of the wave looming overhead. The ship pitched over it, and she was suddenly sliding forward! The warrior cursed, scrabbling, and managed to find a handhold. Cold seawater crashed over her again, filling her mouth. She coughed and sputtered as she continued her struggle toward the last sail.

Another shrieking blast of wind. There was an ominous creaking, and shouts of alarm – then there was a splintering, rending sound. Tara looked up in horror to see the mighty mast splitting. With a heavy crash, it fell on the ship's cabins! As if on cue, lightning split the sky, and thunder shook the very ocean beneath.

"Epona!" Tara's cry of alarm was swallowed up by the howling storm. _"Epona!"_ Another huge wave crashed over _The Nereid's_ deck. There were more screams as the flailing form of a sailor was washed overboard. Tara barely saw it – she was busy clawing her way toward the splintered boards that had once been a neat row of sailors' quarters. "Epona!" she shouted again, hoping desperately that her voice carried over the shrieking gale. "Where are you?"

Lightning flashed again, outlining everything in pitch black and electric white. Tara saw a small figure struggling out from between two jagged pieces of wood. Her heart leaped, and she shouted her slave's name.

It _was_ Epona. The slave was clinging in terror to part of the fallen mast, having managed to extricate herself from the destroyed cabin. "Stay there!" Tara yelled, clutching at an anchor to keep from tumbling across the deck. "I'll come get you. Don't move!" She saw the slave's frightened eyes goggling at her, and then the black head bobbed up and down in understanding. "Just hang on," the warrior shouted. She timed her movements carefully with the rocking deck, and then scrambled from the anchor to the nearest standing mast.

_The Nereid_ suddenly slid sideways! Tara squawked and held on to the mast. She just had time to see the wall of water to her left before it crashed over the deck. It buried her to the waist, nearly tearing loose her death grip on the wood that anchored her.

Epona wasn't so lucky. With a shock of sick horror, Tara watched as the wave ripped the little slave from her haven! The small body tumbled like a rag doll across the deck, toward the yawning abyss of the sea. Tara forgot her own danger, forgot everything but Epona. She released the mast and launched herself through the air like a cat. Her yell became a grunt as another huge wave loomed ahead. The water slammed into her! The shock of the cold and the impact nearly froze her, but then she felt a slight form squirm against her, and Tara caught hold of it.

The slave wrapped herself around her owner's body, coughing and choking, and clung to her like a skinny little octopus. Tara saw the ship's railing rushing at them. _Oh, shit, this is going to hurt…_ She grimaced as she tried to twist the two of them around so that her body was between Epona and the oncoming wood.

They hit a split second later. Tara saw stars as her skull bounced off part of the railing. By sheer instinct, she wrapped her right arm around the stout spindles, still clutching Epona's body against her own. Water rushed around them. It filled her mouth and nose and roared in her ears. She clung stubbornly to her anchor point and to her slave. It seemed like a long time before their heads broke the surface.

Gasping, Tara tried to get her bearings. Her back ached and smarted from being pounded against the railing, and her head was spinning from the blow it had taken. The ship was still rearing and plunging as the angry waves tossed it. She could hear Epona's choked sobs – she suspected the girl was injured, but there was no time to worry about that. She had to get them both to a less vulnerable position. The ship's railing was far too flimsy; it could splinter at any moment. She forced her protesting muscles to propel them across the deck to the mast where she'd taken refuge before. They made it; she wrapped both arms around its solid bulk, trusting that Epona would continue to hold on. The girl did.

Another colossal wave swamped them! This one only came up to Tara's knees, so she didn't have too much trouble hanging on. There were shouts and cries of terror; she looked up to see a group of five men being dragged to the railing by the relentless water. Three of them caught hold of the railing – two were lost.

Epona, her body warm and wet against Tara's chilled skin, pulled herself up to her owner's ear. "Help them," the girl begged. Her pale little face was twisted in pain, but her eyes still begged. "Please."

Tara judged the distance between them and the terrified sailors. Then she gave the little slave a stern glare. "Hold on to this mast," she yelled over the roaring wind. "You hold on, you understand?" Epona nodded and wrapped herself around the solid wood. The warrior waited a moment; then she shoved off from her haven and lunged back across the pitching deck of the ship.

She reached the sailors all right, and clung with them to the railing as two waves crashed over them. Then she grabbed the arm of the nearest one with an iron grip. "Let go!" she shouted. He stared at her, his eyes wide and glazed with fear. Tara cursed mentally. There was no time. With a burst of strength, she jerked his grip loose from the wood, and dragged him bodily to the mast next to Epona's. He fought her a bit, but they made it. "Hang on here," Tara yelled. He clutched it instinctively, and the warrior stumbled back to where the remaining two men huddled.

The second man, a veteran with a weatherbeaten face, was easier to rescue. He released his grip on the railing on cue, and scrambled with her to relative safety. His leg was injured – Tara had to pull him the last couple of yards to the mast with his fellow.

The wind howled, nearly lifting Tara overboard as she staggered toward the one remaining sailor. She slipped and fell sprawling. A huge wave threatened, and she scrambled on her knees and elbows, barely managing to close her hand on a rail spindle before water crashed over her. She could feel her cold-numbed fingers slipping, but she gritted her teeth and hung on stubbornly.

When she reached the third victim, Tara almost paused. The frightened face that peered up at her was smooth-cheeked and round-eyed, a mere boy's – she doubted he was much more than sixteen years old. _Probably his first voyage_. Tara caught him around the chest from behind and began to drag him across the wildly-lurching deck. _Welcome to the sailing game, kid,_ she thought wryly.

Another wave! Tara fairly tossed him at the mast. As his arms wrapped around it, she made a lunge for it herself. Water crashed over her legs, and she fell hard. A pained grunt passed her lips. The suction of the water began to drag her backward. She struggled against it, but even her strength was no match for that of an angry sea – the slimy planks scraped against her body as she was pulled toward the hungry ocean depths.

"Grab hold!" The grizzled old sailor's face swam into view, and she saw a hand extended. With a last burst of strength, she lunged and caught it.

The man's arm held firm. Gasping for breath, Tara hauled herself to the mast. Her eyes met his, and she looked at him for a moment in sheepish chagrin. "Thanks," she muttered. The man nodded with a slight grin.

Through the sheeting rain, Tara could make out Epona's small form clinging where she had left her. She jerked her head at the three rescued sailors. Then, without another word, she released the mast and staggered toward the young slave. There was a sickening moment when the ship pitched sideways, and Tara nearly lost her footing again, but she managed to scramble to safety. A moment later, Epona's shivering body was nestled securely in her arms once more. Tara clutched at her in relief.

The little slave cuddled into Tara's breast. "I'm scared," she said, her small voice barely audible over the continued shrieking of the storm.

"I know." The warrior held on to the mast firmly. She could see groups of sailors struggling to toss anchors overboard to slow and steady the ship. They seemed to be having some success. As she watched, another massive anchor plunged over the side of _The Nereid_; she felt the ship jerk, and its wild progress through the waves slowed. Tara lowered her face until her lips brushed against the delicate shell of Epona's ear. "It'll be okay," she said comfortingly. "We just have to ride out the storm. Then we'll find a sheltered bay or something to anchor in so we can patch up the ship."

"What about those other men?" Epona pleaded. "The ones who fell off…"

"They're gone, little mouse," Tara said quietly. "I can't save them. No one could." The small girl crumpled into the warrior's body. Tara could feel her shaking with sobs. She held her, full of silent gratitude that she'd been in time to save her. She could still see the helpless little form tumbling toward the gaping maw of the ocean. A sharp pang shot through Tara's heart. Her eyes closed. _What would I have done if she'd gone over?_ And she knew suddenly that she, Tara, would have leaped into the sea after her without hesitation.

_I don't want to live without her_.

The thought was calm, a simple and clear statement of fact. Tara's grip on the slim girl tightened as she considered it. _Gods. Gods, what…how…?_ She sucked in a breath as the pieces suddenly fell into place. _I…care about her. I must…_ Her dark eyes closed again. _The kid was right. I must love her_.

Tara had always prided herself in her courage and strength, and in the fact that she needed no one. She huddled there, one arm wrapped tightly around the mast, the other around Epona, and realized that this was no longer true. She felt sick. _I love her_, she thought numbly. _That's why I cut my way through that battle to save her life. That's why I didn't leave her when the Amazons took her. That's why I can't seem to stop thinking about her, and why everything I feel about her is so intense…_ She drew another deep breath, her body shaking. _What am I going to do?_

The ship bucked like a crazed stallion, and Tara's grip on Epona tightened. _Fuck…this is no time to go to pieces, Tara. Right now, you've got some surviving to do._ The slave uttered a little squall of pain as her owner clutched her. The warrior's eyes widened as she remembered. "You're hurt." She peered down at the smaller girl anxiously, her own turmoil forgotten. "What is it, _beag luch?_ Are you all right?"

"No." Epona's jaw was clenched, and she was shuddering in her efforts to hold back her sobs. "My arm," she said. "I think I broke it again."

Tara looked, and winced. Epona's short sleeve was plastered to her skin, accentuating what was now a hideous swelling of her forearm. It was bent at an awkward angle. Out of the corner of her eye, the warrior saw Epona's gaze dropping to look; she quickly clasped the curly head into her own chest to keep the girl from seeing the ugly injury. "Don't look," she said sternly. "I think you're right. It's broken." She felt Epona flinch and nod. A moment's hesitation – a moment only – and Tara steeled herself for the task at hand. "I can't take care of it right now," she said. "The storm's too strong. But I'll keep you safe until I can, okay? Just try to relax."

"It hurts," the little slave whimpered.

"I know, squirt." Tara could feel the girl shivering violently. _This is bad. The kid could go into shock. I've got to keep her warm._ She wrapped her own body around Epona's slender form as much as she could. "Try to think about something else," she said. "Tell me a story."

And so they hunched there together in the wind and the driving rain, and Epona told her stories. Some of them were disjointed, and none were original, but they served their purpose. Epona calmed as she spoke. Her shivering didn't stop, but it did abate a little. Tara held her in silence and prayed for the storm to end.


	53. Chapter 53

Strange how circumstances could change so quickly.

A shivering, bedraggled group of sailors and soldiers climbed out of battered lifeboats and dragged themselves on shore. It was still cold, but it had stopped raining, and a few anemic sunbeams were poking through the gray clouds that covered the sky. The shore itself was rocky and unforgiving – even the shoal they'd beached on was covered in sharp gravel. Wild, wooded hills spread out to the horizon.

Tara wrapped her arms around Epona's skinny form and lifted her from the boat, slogging through the shallows to dry land. The little slave pressed her forehead into the warrior's neck. "I'm really trying not to complain, ma'am…but my arm hurts a lot," she whispered.

"I know, kid." Tara sighed. "I'll fix you up in a minute, okay? Lemme get you some splints." She glanced at Epona gravely. "Don't look at it," she said, her sandy brows dropping. "Just wait for me."

Epona nodded. "I won't." She closed her eyes. "It's so cold here."

The warrior looked around. "They're making a fire," she said, seeing a number of uninjured sailors rooting around for relatively dry wood. She strode to where they were clearing the ground to make a firepit and set Epona down. The girl was wrapped in a gray blanket that Tara had found below decks; she tucked it carefully around the slender form. "Stay put," she said. "Try to keep warm. And don't look at your arm."

Exhausted green eyes met hers. "It's really bad, isn't it?" the slave asked softly.

Tara avoided the question. "Won't know until I've treated it," she said gruffly, turning away.

The storm had raged all day and most of the next night. It had finally broken just before dawn that morning. The ship's depleted crew had gathered together and taken stock of their remaining supplies. Most of the food stocks were undamaged, but they'd lost half of their fresh water stores, and the ship's rudder had been torn away. There were only nineteen remaining of the crew of thirty-five, and four of the galley slaves had been killed by the violent rocking of the ship. They'd committed the bodies of the slaves and sailors to the sea – the ones that hadn't been washed overboard, anyway. Then they had raised and turned the sails toward the shore. They'd been lucky enough to find a reasonably friendly-looking beach to land on.

The warrior poked around the underbrush until she found some straight saplings. She cut them down with sure strokes of her sword. She'd managed to rescue most of her gear from their collapsed cabin, with the exception of her bow, which had been shattered, and her cloak and healer's kit, which were still lost somewhere in the wreckage. She'd put on her full armor, as had any of the soldiers who still had theirs – this beach was squarely in Gaulish territory, and Gauls were no friends to Romus. Tara turned and grimly made her way back to where her slave huddled.

They'd succeeded in lighting a blaze, and were now feeding it with larger sticks. Soon it would be large enough to warm them and cook some hot food. Tara laid her sticks down and brushed Epona's forehead with her hand. Miserable green eyes peered up at her. "Hey," Tara said quietly. "Time to take care of that arm, little mouse."

"Okay." The slave shivered and looked away. "Will it hurt a lot?"

_She knows it will_. Tara sighed. "Yes," she said flatly. "It'll hurt like hell. Still has to be done."

Tears flowed soundlessly down Epona's pale cheeks. "Okay," she whispered, and waited.

Tara took the girl by the shoulders and helped her to lie down on her back. Then she peeled back the blanket to expose the broken arm. It was swollen to nearly twice its normal size, and the unnatural bend in the forearm made Tara shiver. She wished for her healer's kit. _Then I could at least give her something for the pain_. Tara shook her head. _No help for it. I better just get this over with_. She laid her hand on the slave's forehead and met the anguished gaze. "I'll do it fast," she said. "Scream if you need to, okay?"

The little slave shut her eyes tightly and nodded. "Can I please bite down on something, ma'am?" she murmured.

"Sure." Without hesitation, Tara unbuckled her own belt and removed her sheathed sword from it. Folding the stiff leather double, she offered it to the slave. "Bite," she said. Epona took the belt between her teeth and screwed her eyes shut again. The warrior felt a pang. _She's trying so damn hard to be tough, poor kid_. She braced herself for a moment. Then, thrusting aside the unaccustomed pity, she took hold of the girl's elbow and wrist.

Epona turned as white as a sheet. She gave one muffled cry; then her body fell limp. Tara breathed deeply. _Passed out. Probably for the best_. She pulled, her muscles straining. Her right shoulder protested vehemently, and Tara winced, remembering the old arrow wound. _Hera's tit! Must've strained it again_. She ignored the pain and soldiered on. At last, with a faint grinding sound, the shattered ends of bone fit together. Panting, Tara released the small limb and laid it gently over Epona's chest. Then she took up the straight poles she'd cut. She splinted the arm and bandaged it with strips of cloth torn from her extra shirt.

The girl's clothes were still damp. In grave silence, Tara stripped them off her, and then wrapped her body carefully in the blanket. She spread the wet garments over a rock by the campfire to dry. Then she sat back on her heels and looked around. Most of the able-bodied men had fanned out into the forest to cut wood with which to repair _The Nereid_. Tara frowned a bit, then looked at the group by the fire. Her eyes met with the sullen gaze of Bastien, the cook. She considered him for a moment. "Watch the kid for me?" she said gruffly. His eyes flicked past her to the still form of the little slave. Then, scowling, he shrugged and nodded.

_Good_ _enough. Probably the best I'll get out of him_. Without another word, Tara got up and went to help the rest of the crew with their task.

The physical labor warmed Tara's chilled body, even if it did make her muscles ache. She helped fell and strip a mighty tree to replace the broken mast. Then she hewed planks out of smaller trees until someone shouted that supper was ready. She stopped working and mopped her brow, leaning on the handle of her axe. Her clothes were mostly dry now; she felt bone tired. Wearily, the warrior hefted the tool over her shoulder and headed back toward the bonfire.

A gray-swathed form was sitting hunched before the dancing flames; a mop of black curls poked out at the top. Tara moved over to sit down beside the slave. Epona's face was still pale, but she favored her owner with a weak smile. The warrior ruffled the girl's dark hair gently. "Hey. You feeling better?"

"Yes, ma'am." Epona smiled bravely.

Tara eyed the white, strained little face with suspicion. "Truth, squirt."

The green eyes lowered. "I'm warmer now," she murmured. "It's better. My…my arm still really hurts, though." Tears brimmed, but they didn't fall.

"Okay. I'll take a look. But I'll get grub first." Tara patted Epona's back. The girl nodded her curly head. The warrior got up and moved over to where the food was being served out. She got two bowls of thin soup and some hard bread.

Epona accepted the food with a look almost pathetically grateful. She set her bowl in her lap and tried awkwardly to dip her bread into it with her good hand – seeing which, Tara put down her own food and silently began to help her. The injured girl ate her meal quietly enough. Afterward, Tara helped her back into her clothes, which the fire had dried and warmed. Then she examined the broken arm. It hadn't swollen any more; Tara poured cool water over the bandages, and Epona uttered a low moan of relief. "Lie down," the warrior ordered. "Rest so you can heal."

Quiet emerald eyes regarded her as their owner obeyed. "Then you should sleep, too, ma'am," Epona said softly. "You're all over bruises and blood."

Tara scowled. _"I've_ been trained to deal with it. _You_ haven't. Button that sassy lip of yours, runt, and get some sleep."

Epona's gaze dropped. "I'll try," she murmured. She lay still as Tara spread the blanket over her. "Ma'am?" The warrior paused in the act of turning away and raised a questioning brow. "What's happened to all the galley slaves? Do they have something to eat tonight?"

"Not yet," Tara said. "First we get the crew fed and rested. Slaves get food in the morning."

The smaller girl bit her lip. "But…"

"Epona." The warrior's voice dropped an octave.

Tired green eyes regarded her. "They're cold and hungry, just like we are," Epona said quietly. "I'm a slave, too. Maybe you should keep me in there with them, ma'am."

Tara could feel her temper growing short. "Maybe you should obey your master, be quiet and go to sleep," she said evenly. The slave studied her for a moment, then dropped her gaze and silently closed her eyes. Tara regarded her. Then she riffled her fingers through the dark curls. "We'll take care of them in the morning," she said, more gently. "They won't starve before then." Epona said nothing. "You warm enough?"

The moss-green eyes reappeared. "It's okay," the little slave murmured. "I don't know how much I can sleep, though, ma'am. It…it really hurts."

The last of Tara's irritation melted. She impulsively stooped down to kiss Epona's forehead. "Do what you can," she said. "I'll try to find my healer's kit tomorrow." Her long fingers played over the younger woman's cheek. "You okay otherwise?"

The note of concern in her own voice surprised Tara, and it seemed to surprise Epona, as well. The slave peeped up at her timidly. "Yes. I think only a few scratches otherwise, ma'am."

"Um…good." Tara quickly drew back, flustered. "Sleep, then. We'll figure things out in the morning." Epona obediently settled down and closed her eyes.

Captain Lucian had gathered the sailors and soldiers together by the fire. He nodded at Tara as she approached. She jerked her head in response and joined them, folding her arms across her chest. He returned his attention to the group. "As you all know," he said grimly, "we aren't in friendly territory. This is the country of a Gaulish tribe – the Pictavii, I believe. If we're lucky, we won't run into any of the natives. If we're unlucky…" He shrugged. "We'll need to guard the camp in shifts," he said. "Since this storm has more or less thrown off everyone's schedules, I'm going to ask the day shift to keep watch tonight, and the night shift to stand guard in the morning. We'll keep that up until we've patched up our ship and sailed out." He glanced at the scattered forms of the injured. "Those of us who aren't able-bodied excluded, of course."

_Pictavii._ Tara rubbed her chin. _Haven't heard that name in a long time…_ "How are the supplies?" she asked out loud. "Do we need to be hunting and gathering while we're out here?"

"Our first priority is _The Nereid,"_ the captain said, "since our supplies are still fairly good. But any extra food people can find would be welcome." He gestured. "I'll be gathering together a group to search for a source of fresh water tomorrow. Think about whether you want to volunteer for that." There was a pause – then Lucian flicked his hand. "Dismissed. Get some rest, night shift. Day shift, keep your eyes peeled."

Tara sighed. _No sleep yet tonight, then_. Loosening her sword in its sheath, she moved over to an edge of the camp where she could still keep an eye on Epona. There she settled in to keep watch for the night.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

It was frustrating not to be able to sleep. Epona's throbbing arm was keeping her from even dozing. She gritted her teeth against another wave of pain; tears came to her eyes, but she blinked them back resolutely. She was determined to show Tara that she could be strong when she needed to be.

_Do I need to be?_ came the pitiful thought. _Gods…I'm so tired. I almost wish she'd hit me on the head or something. At least then I could rest._ She rolled onto her back, wincing as the hard ground pressed against the bruises left by the battering she'd taken during the storm. _Well, I guess I can be thankful I'm not as banged up as Tara_, she sighed to herself.

She doubted the warrior even knew how bad she looked. Tara's jaw was bruised, and her body was covered in cuts and scrapes. The worst were the nasty wounds on her back. Epona thought she'd gotten those when the two of them had slammed up against the ship's railing. Her own arm had been broken under that same impact, but she knew her owner had taken the worst of it. She remembered it again, with awe – how the water had come and torn her from her refuge, and dragged her toward the raging sea. She could still feel the terror and despair of it…the water had been so cold, so completely relentless. Epona had looked death in the face for a horrible moment.

And then she'd felt strong arms lock around her, and had known a depth of relief she hadn't even known she was capable of. They'd been thrown heavily against the railing, and pain had shot up Epona's arm, nearly knocking her senseless. But Tara had been…the slave couldn't restrain a small smile. _She was amazing_, she thought, remembering how the warrior had gotten them both to relative safety. Epona had watched, too, as Tara had rescued the three sailors by sheer strength and determination. And how safe and warm she'd felt later, cradled in those same powerful arms, as they waited for the storm to pass!

The little slave sighed, shifting restlessly. She knew the way she felt wasn't entirely logical. Tara had always been a double-edged sword – incredibly tender one moment, fierce and furious the next. Epona bore the scars of that on her own body. But still, she couldn't help hoping. _The way she looks at me sometimes…she speaks with her eyes, and I can't help thinking I see…more_. Epona gave a sad, wistful smile as she stared up at the stars. _Maybe she's right. Maybe I'm just a silly, naïve little girl who's read too much poetry, and it's just wishful thinking_.

"Hey." Startled, Epona looked up to find the object of her thoughts standing over her. She hadn't even heard the warrior approach. Grave brown eyes studied her for a moment. "Arm hurt?" came the quiet question.

Epona looked at her unhappily. She wanted to deny it and bear it in silence, if only to prove to Tara that she could do it, but she knew how the woman hated being lied to. "Yes," she whispered.

Without another word, the warrior knelt down beside her and pulled over a bucket of seawater. The cool liquid was soon soaking into the bandage that held her splints; it soothed the angry heat of the injury. Epona let her head rest against her owner's knee and gave a deep sigh of relief. The throbbing lessened – it was bearable again. Tara continued to ladle the water over the slave's arm for a minute or two. Then Epona felt a soft touch against her cheek. "Better?" came Tara's deep voice.

The little slave looked up at her. The woman's expression was impassive, as it very often was, but her brown eyes were soft. Epona admired the strong lines and angles of the face for a moment, and then smiled tentatively. "Yeah," she murmured. "Thank you, ma'am."

Tara grunted. "Sleep," she said gruffly, giving a lock of Epona's hair a gentle tug. Epona nodded meekly and laid her head down again. She was tired; her eyes closed, and she tried to relax.

She drifted off a little after that, into the twilight between sleep and waking, where strange, half-remembered pictures passed before her mind's eye. She was always conscious of the ache of her broken bones, even in the deepest of her dreams.

Epona's eyes opened.

Something had wakened her, although she couldn't figure out, for a moment, what that something was. Then she realized that she could hear voices – mens' voices, speaking a strange, guttural language. She sat up groggily, cradling her injured arm against her belly. Now she could hear someone protesting, and then the strange language again; she peered over to the edge of the camp to her right.

The fire was burning brightly, outlining everything in stark relief against the darkness of the woods. Soldiers were there, standing with their backs to Epona; she could see their weapons drawn in their hands. And there, facing them, was a group of strangers.

At once, Epona was wide awake. She stared at the strange men, her eyes moving over long, hide shields, wickedly sharp spears, and thick fur cloaks. All of them had bushy beards, as well – a strange sight to Epona, who had never seen men who weren't either smooth-cheeked or neatly trimmed. There were six of them, as compared to the eleven able-bodied soldiers who faced them, but Epona suddenly saw movement in the bushes behind, and realized that there were more. _And how big they are!_ she thought, realizing that all six fair-skinned men were taller than any of the fighters on her side. Fear bubbled up in her throat.

One of them – a barrel-chested, black-haired man with a cloak trimmed in wolf fur – shook his spear, growling something in their strange tongue. His eyes glittered fiercely. Captain Lucian stepped forward. Of all his men, he alone hadn't drawn steel. "We don't understand your language," he said in Romusi. His tone was calm, although Epona could see the tension in his stance. "Do you speak ours?"

The stranger simply snarled something more. The others gave harsh laughs, and there was a stirring in the bushes. Spears were brandished.

And then a woman's clear voice came from behind Epona, speaking the same rough tongue! Astonished, she turned to see Tara striding toward the strangers. Silence fell, broken only by the warrior's footsteps. The redhead moved up alongside Lucian and gazed coolly at the black-haired stranger. She was taller than he was – he had to look up to meet her eyes. She spoke again, coldly, in long strings of odd-sounding words.

It struck Epona suddenly that Tara was really a lot more like these new arrivals than she was like any of the men she was traveling with. Even dressed in Argonian armor, Tara's fair skin was like the strangers', and they seemed to share something of the wild aura that always hovered around her. Suddenly, the tall woman seemed very foreign. The little slave watched and listened in fascination.

The black-haired stranger growled something, and Tara gave a dangerous smile. "Captain Lucian," she said calmly, "this gentleman's name is Arnot, and he seems to want us off his beach."

The captain looked at her in silence for a moment. "Tell him we just need to repair our ship, and we'll be gone."

"Did already," Tara said succinctly. "He doesn't like the idea."

Lucian frowned. "Then tell him I'm a centurion and the captain of a Romusi naval ship, and he needs to stand down."

Brown eyes regarded the captain, and a sandy brow arched. "I don't think the Pictavii recognize the authority of Romus," she said quietly. "That'd be as good as waving a red flag in their faces." Then, as Lucian opened his mouth to speak, Tara shrugged. "Let me try something."

She turned back to the sneering strangers. To Epona's eyes, she seemed to grow taller – the firelight cast her muscular body in flickering light and shadow. Tara's dark eyes gleamed as she spoke again. Even though the little slave had no idea what the strange words meant, she could still feel the bristling menace in Tara's tone. The man growled something, and Tara coolly replied. As Epona watched, the woman's lips curved into a cold smile, and she pulled down her armor to expose the bird tattooed on the side of her neck.

To Epona's amazement, the black-haired man took a step backward, making a warding gesture. His companions looked wary. A few more words were exchanged. Tara released her armor, letting the cold metal cover her exposed throat again, and grinned at him. He shook his spear viciously, growled something, and then turned away. As Epona watched in amazement, the strangers melted into the surrounding woods. Soon there was silence.

Tara turned back to the captain. Her expression was carefully nonchalant, but Epona could see the beginnings of a victorious smirk twitching the corners of her mouth. "Our friend Arnot says that we have seven days," she said calmly. "We'd better patch up the damn ship fast." With that, she turned toward her slave. "I'm done," she said. "I'm getting some sleep." And she calmly headed for where Epona lay, leaving Lucian staring after her with his mouth open.

Without a word, Tara reclined next to Epona, stretching out her limbs like a panther. The little slave shivered as she felt herself drawn up into the woman's arms. She cuddled her face into Tara's chest and reveled in the warmth. "What did you say to them?" she asked shyly, as she felt long fingers weaving themselves through her hair.

The warrior looked down at Epona, her eyes painted a deep, mysterious red-gold by the firelight. "Nothing much." She shrugged. "Asked them for a little time."

Epona peered at her suspiciously. "But you showed them your raven tattoo."

Tara smiled, baring her white teeth. "Time to sleep," was all she said. Defeated for the time being, the little slave let her head rest against the woman's chest again. Her touch was comforting; Epona soon forgot both fear and pain as she drifted into a dreamless slumber.


	54. Chapter 54

The disadvantage to being awake all night, Tara mused, was the trying to get to sleep once the sun had risen. She hugged her knees and cast a dour look at the aforementioned heavenly body, which was shining brightly, indifferent to the annoyance of any mere mortal. Then she lowered her gaze to the gray lump at her feet.

Epona didn't seem to be having any trouble sleeping. That wasn't surprising, given the medicine Tara had coaxed into her an hour or two before. She was wrapped snugly up in the gray blanket, her head pillowed on the cloak that Tara had rescued from the wreckage of the ship's cabins. Her eyes were closed, and the peaceful look on her face was marred only by the fading remains of bruising on her cheekbone.

They had made a lot of progress over the past couple of days. Tara had worked tirelessly with the men, clearing away _The Nereid's_ toppled mast, and the splintered wood it had left in its wake. The rebuilding process was beginning even now. She glanced out at the ship anchored in the bay. If she squinted, she could just make out the sailors crawling all over it. They hoped to have the new mast erected by nightfall.

Tara looked down at the sleeping slave, and smiled ruefully, remembering how Epona had worked so gamely all last night. She'd insisted on helping the cooking crew, even with one arm out of commission. Then she'd begged to help bring the galley slaves their rations until Tara had finally given in, and taken her over to the ship's hold.

The slaves had remembered Epona. They hadn't spoken, but Tara could tell by the way they'd looked at the smaller woman. Under Tara's watchful eye, Epona had helped to hand out the rations and spoken kindly to them. She'd even gotten a smile out of one or two of them.

The warrior studied her slave with some bemusement, her eyes moving slowly over the relaxed little face. She still hadn't really had time to process what she'd realized during the storm. _I love her_. Brown eyes lingered on a small hand that protruded from the blanket. _This tiny, foolish, naïve, sentimental, bleeding-heart little do-gooder. I…I love her._

Tara rubbed her face_. Ugh. Somewhere, the gods are laughing at me_. She found her hand drifting out to touch the girl. She paused, wrestling with herself for a moment. Then, with a sigh, she gave in to the compulsion. Her callused fingers threaded gently through Epona's mop of dark hair. _What does this mean?_ she wondered_. I mean, I know what would happen if I lived a normal life. I'd settle down somewhere with her, or something like that, I guess. But I don't._

_And it won't happen, either_. Tara gazed out at the ocean in pensive silence. _The minute I sit still for longer than a week or two, someone or something tracks me down, and I have to move on or get killed. Not that I really care – I like the open road. But the kid will be different. Once the romance of adventure wears off, she'll want to find a place to make a home. And I can't. I draw danger…I'll draw it to her, too._ Her dark eyes flicked to the mostly-vanished bruise on Epona's face. _Not that I'm not dangerous to her, myself._

The bitterness of the thought surprised her. Tara examined it curiously_. I guess I regret beating her this last time. She didn't deserve it, not really. Yeah, she was stupid not to shut the hell up when she saw she was ticking me off, but she wasn't really doing anything wrong._ The warrior examined her own hands_. And I'm a whole hell of a lot stronger than she is. I could really hurt her_. She sighed deeply. Her restless thoughts quieted for a while, and Tara soaked in the peace of the gentle ocean waves that were washing the shore not far from where she sat.

_I better not tell the kid_, came the quiet thought_. It'd make her expect a whole load of ridiculous crap that she'll never get from me. Reads too much poetry…I mean, gods, the runt quoted Sappho at me. Sappho! What was that rubbish? 'Scatter the grace from your eyes?'_ The warrior rolled her eyes. _What the hell is that even supposed to mean?_ Her hand slipped over to stroke Epona's cheek, almost of its own accord. Tara regarded it ruefully. _Bloody Hades, I'm getting touchy-feely. I better watch it, or I'm going to ruin my reputation_.

Footsteps crunched in the gravel. Tara quickly snatched her hand back and looked up, hunting for a suitable scowl. Then she stopped; it was the distinctive, craggy face of the old sailor she'd rescued during the storm. He was limping noticeably, and there was a line of ugly stitches along the side of his leg. He paused and nodded at her. "Pardon the interruption," he said gruffly. "Name's Giles. I'll leave ye be. Jes' wanted to thank ye for haulin' my carcass off the railin' in that storm."

Tara looked at him in silence for a moment. _Would I even have done it if Epona hadn't asked me? Maybe._ She favored him with a slow nod.

He jerked his head in response. Then, as he turned away, he paused. "How's the little one?" he asked hesitantly, glancing past her at the slumbering girl.

The warrior shrugged and looked down. "She's all right," she said shortly. "Broken arm, a few bruises."

"Ah." He nodded gravely. "Is't a bad break?"

"I've seen worse," Tara said noncommittally. Then she sighed and shrugged again. "Hard to say. It's mending straight, but she's broken it before. Time will tell if her arm still works the same after."

"Aye." Giles nodded again. "Hope it does." He turned away. "Nice piece of work wi' them Gauls, too," he added. "Honor havin' you, Tara." And he ambled off toward the other side of the bonfire.

_Huh_. Tara's brows lifted slightly. _Can't say I get that reaction a lot. Well, better than being cursed out, I suppose._

"See?" came a sleepy voice from below. "I knew you could be a hero, ma'am."

The redhead's face crumpled abruptly into a scowl. Groggy green eyes blinked up at her from the ground; Epona gave her a soft, sweet smile. Tara shook her head and pointed sternly. "Don't you start spouting that bardic trash again," she growled. "I'm nothing of the sort. And aren't you supposed to be asleep?"

"I was," Epona murmured. "But I woke up." Small fingers stole out from under the blanket to rub softly against Tara's boot. "It's really not trash, ma'am. You're a hero to those men. They might be dead if it weren't for you."

The corners of Tara's mouth curved downward. "Three 'mights' don't outweigh a few thousand kills," she said. "You might be a good storyteller, but you obviously don't understand basic math." The small girl peered at her quietly, but said nothing. Tara reached down to pat the slim hand. "How's the arm, kid?"

"It's not too bad now." Epona gave another timid smile. "It just hurts a little bit. I can sleep with it, easy."

Tara grunted. "Herbs are working, then." There was silence for a moment or two. Then the warrior, drawn again by some irresistible force, reached out to draw the backs of her fingers down Epona's cheek. She marveled at the smoothness of the girl's skin. "You should sleep," she said quietly. "You worked hard today, _beag luch."_

"So did you." A small brow wrinkled at her.

"Mmph." Tara grunted again. "Can't sleep," she muttered, looking up at the sunlit ocean. "Too much light. Too much stuff to think about."

"Like what?" Epona's moss-green eyes peered up at her in curiosity.

Caught off-guard, Tara blinked at her. "Stuff," she said curtly. "Nothing you need to worry about." The little slave's gaze dropped, and she laid her head down with a sigh. Tara's fingers threaded idly through Epona's dark curls. The warrior enjoyed the silky feel of them; her fingertips slid gently over the healing cut on the girl's scalp. She watched as Epona's face and body relaxed.

"Ma'am?" The murmur drew Tara's attention. She mumbled her affirmative. The little slave looked up at her. "It's still kind of cold." The green eyes blinked in sleepy innocence. "Do we have another blanket?"

"No." Tara glanced around uncomfortably. She knew what the girl was hinting at, and she wanted to give in, but there were so many people around, and…

_By all the gods, Tara, get a hold of yourself_, the warrior fumed. _She's your slave. It's not like these damn sailors don't know that you sleep together. And this never would have bothered you before you figured out that you've fallen for the squirt, so just…get over it._ "Fine. We'll share," Tara said shortly. She didn't miss the look of delight Epona gave her at the success of her ruse. With a scowl, the warrior slipped under the gray blanket and tugged the smaller girl into her arms. Epona snuggled up against her happily. Tara took care not to bump the broken arm as she tucked the blanket around them both. "Now will you just damn go to sleep?" she grumbled, feeling the girl's head cuddle into her shoulder.

"Now I'll do whatever you want, ma'am," Epona whispered, and pressed a tender kiss beneath Tara's chin. "Thank you."

"Whatever." The warrior now had a different problem to contend with. The sensation of the warm little body pressed against hers was a very pleasant one. _Very_ pleasant. Tara felt a burning in her gut, and an almost irresistible desire to slip her hands beneath Epona's shirt to caress the skin whose warmth she could already feel. _Damn it_. Tara could feel her face flushing. She forced herself to lie still, with her arms rigid and motionless around the slave's body.

"Ma'am?" Tara looked down to see half-closed green eyes peering at her. "What did you really say to those Gauls?"

The warrior forced a smile. "That's just eating at you, isn't it?" Epona nodded gravely, and the Gael chuckled and relented. "It wasn't anything earth-shattering, runt. They know the Morrigan here, too. I just more or less told 'em I was hers, and if they didn't want their asses handed to them via my sword, they could back the hell off. Fortunately, I didn't have to follow through." She tweaked a pink ear that was peeking out from amongst Epona's black curls. "Does that satisfy your curiosity, little mouse? Will you go to sleep now?"

"Yeah." The slave girl kissed Tara's collarbone. "I'm sorry, ma'am. I'll sleep." And she closed her eyes to make good on her promise.

Gradually, Epona's breathing deepened and slowed, and she lay bonelessly against Tara's muscular form. The warrior could feel herself sweating with the effort of lying still, but she sternly disciplined herself against moving. At last, when she was certain the little slave was sound asleep, she set about the ticklish business of untangling herself. Epona's limbs were wrapped around her, so it was difficult to do, but Tara finally managed to release the girl's grip and slide out from under the blanket. She tucked it under the girl's chin and stood up.

_Bloody Bacchus balls_. Not being in direct contact with the tempting flesh didn't seem to be helping Tara's state much. She hoped her face wasn't as red as it felt. With a frown, she snatched up her javelin and stalked off toward the woods. "Going hunting," she growled at one of the camp guards, who nodded. _Right. Hunting_. Tara inhaled deeply. _And maybe I can find a nice, cold bit of ocean to dunk myself in, while I'm at it._ Tara scowled, hefted her weapon, and vanished into the forest's timeless hush.


	55. Chapter 55

It took some time for the peace of the woods to begin to quiet the turmoil that was churning up Tara's guts. She weighed her javelin in her hand, her dark eyes raking the forest. She wanted an animal – the bigger the better, if only so she could work off some of this wild energy in killing it. Her hands were shaking. _Damn it. Should have just thrown that little runt over my shoulder, carried her in here with me, and taken the edge off this properly._ Impatiently, Tara scrubbed her hand over her face. _Come on, Terror of Gaelis. Get a handle on yourself. Quit acting like some sex-crazed adolescent, all right?_ She sighed. _Okay. I think maybe that cold bath idea was a good one._ The tall warrior turned her steps westward, heading for the ocean she could hear nearby.

She emerged on a rocky beach, which was sheltered by a low, craggy cliff. _The Nereid_ was still visible, but it was far enough away that it didn't concern Tara – no one would be able to see this far. She stooped down to slip her hand into the water. It was ice cold. With a cool nod, Tara straightened and scanned her surroundings, extending her senses. She'd spent many hours honing and perfecting her hearing and sight and smell, until she could sense her surroundings with almost preternatural accuracy. There was no one near, either human or animal. A sparrow twittered at her from a nearby tree. Tara scowled at it as she discarded her javelin. Her armor and clothes soon followed the weapon, and Tara dove off the beach into the shallow water.

The shock of the chill made her breath catch in her throat. Tara gasped as she surfaced, shaking her head to clear the salt water out of her eyes. It was so cold that it burned; she forced her lungs to take in air, and then dove again. As frigid as it was, it felt good. Tara's head broke the surface, and she sucked in a deep breath. _Ah. Gods, that's so much better._ With a sigh of relief, she made her way back to shore, flicking water droplets off her body with her hands.

And froze.

There was someone sitting on a fallen log beside the place where Tara had shed her clothes. One glance was sufficient to tell her that it wasn't anyone she knew. It was a girl, perhaps in her mid-teens, with white skin and pale, wavy hair that reached nearly to the middle of her back. It had been so long since Tara had seen hair that color that she was dumbfounded for a moment. _A Gaul, perhaps?_ Tara's quick eyes took in the girl's long limbs and wide shoulders, and wondered. _No. A Celt…_

The girl smiled at her gravely. "Hello," she said.

Tara's eyes widened. The girl had spoken in Gael.

There was a pause. Tara very slowly stooped down, took up a jagged stone, and just as slowly rose to her feet again. The girl watched in solemn amusement. "Are you going to attack me?" she asked curiously, this time in the Gaulish tongue.

The warrior's eyes narrowed. "You've got my things."

Calmly, the girl looked down at the pile of clothing that lay near her feet. "Not really," she said, once again speaking Gael. "I'm just sitting by them." She lifted her gaze back to the naked warrior. Only then did Tara notice her eyes – a pale bluish gray, so light as to almost be colorless. Tara hadn't seen gray eyes since she had left Gael so many years ago. Now the girl smiled. "You can come get them if you want, you know."

_It's a trap. It's got to be._ Tara's eyes flicked over the landscape, and her nostrils quivered. There was nothing out of the ordinary. She listened; only the soft sounds of the forest came to her ears.

The warrior hesitated. Then, slowly, she began to advance, her nerves still as taut as bowstrings. The girl made no move other than to watch her approach. Tara held the stone up, her eyes glinting in warning. The stranger merely looked at her. When she was finally close enough to reach her things, Tara reached out and snatched at her javelin. Then she faced the girl squarely. "Move back," she snarled.

The gray-eyed girl smiled and shook her head. "You're awfully aggressive," she said. "I'm not going to hurt you."

_The kid's bloody insane._ Tara could see that she wasn't in the least intimidated, despite Tara's size and spear. Scowling, the warrior hesitated. Then she quickly grabbed her clothing and backed away. The girl watched in silence as Tara tugged on her trousers and slung her shirt over her back. Tara didn't bother lacing up; she brandished her weapon. "You're too damn close to our camp," she growled. "Now you get up and get lost, or I'll drag you back as my prisoner."

Quietly, the girl regarded her. "That's not very polite," she said. "But I guess I wasn't too polite, either. I haven't even introduced myself." She extended a lean, white hand. "You can call me Eirian."

"I'm not calling you anything," Tara snarled. "Do you think I'm bluffing?"

Grave gray eyes regarded her. "No, warrior," Eirian said gently. "I know you wouldn't bluff."

Confusion rooted Tara to the spot for a long moment. She studied the girl's face furiously, her brown eyes narrowing. _Does she know me? I don't recognize her. She's too young for an Amazon…wrong nationality for that, anyway. I didn't really have enemies yet when I left Gaelis…did I even know any Celts?_ "Who are you?" she demanded harshly, taking a step toward her. "Tell me, now!"

At this, Eirian rose from her perch and faced Tara. She was dressed in dark gray, with a black cloak. A richly-decorated dagger hung from her belt. Tara recognized the designs on the weapon as being Celtic. "I told you," the young woman said. "My name is Eirian." Her lips quirked. "I'm not your enemy."

"The hell you're not. Who are you?" The warrior drew back her javelin, ready to spit the girl's body with it if necessary.

Eirian sighed. She sat back down, smoothing her tunic down with her hands. "I've been sent to help you, warrior," she said quietly, "if you'll let me."

"I don't need help." Tara felt very off-balance. Nothing about this made any sense. _How in the hell did she sneak up on me, anyway? I was watching._ "Were you following me?" she demanded.

The girl gave an enigmatic smile. "You could say that." She regarded Tara placidly. "Really? You're sure you don't need help?" she said. "I thought you seemed a little upset. But you're fine? No problems, nothing?"

Tara could hear the faint mockery in Eirian's tone, and it infuriated her. _You wet-nosed, arrogant little bitch!_ Baring her teeth in a snarl, the redhead took a step forward. "You had your chance," she snapped. "I told you to get lost. You didn't. Get down on the ground, or I'll run you through. And keep your hands away from that knife!" The young Celt sighed, but quietly got up and did as she was told. Tara was on her in a moment. She quickly took the girl's dagger, then stripped off the black cloak. Eirian didn't struggle as Tara tied her hands with her own belt. The warrior was a little surprised; as willowy as the teenager looked, her muscles were solid and wiry. Tara grasped the back of the Celt's tunic and hauled her to her feet. "Let's go," she said coldly.

The prisoner walked quietly for a while. "You don't have to do this," she said at length. For the first time, her tone was a little uncertain.

"Shut up. I don't want to hear it." Tara dealt the girl a shove between her shoulder blades, letting her captive feel a measure of her strength. "You just keep walking and keep your mouth shut." Eirian stumbled over something and fell to her knees. The Gael dragged her back up.

The camp's guards stared at Tara as she emerged from the woods, pushing her captive ahead of her. "I thought you were going hunting," one of them said.

"I was," Tara said coolly. "Some funny-looking deer in these parts." She glanced around, found a coil of rope, and slung it over her shoulder. "C'mon," she grunted, shoving Eirian in the direction of the bonfire. The girl went quietly.

Epona seemed to be asleep. Tara made her prisoner sit down a few feet from the slumbering slave. Then she searched the Celt more thoroughly, in case she was carrying some hidden weapon. There was nothing. Satisfied, Tara took the rope and bound her prisoner's hands more securely. "Feet together," she said curtly. Eirian complied, and Tara wound rope around her legs. She paused then, running an experimental finger down the boots on the girl's feet. They were well made, lined with brown fur, and the leather was soft and flexible.

"Ma'am? What's going on?" Tara looked up to find Epona blinking at her. The girl was sitting up, her broken arm cradled to her chest. Her green eyes moved over Eirian, and then back to her owner.

"Caught a spy." Tara grinned at her. "Want some new boots, little mouse? She's got some nice ones." The warrior tugged them off the prisoner and tossed them lightly at her slave. "Here. Put 'em on, and let's have yours." Uncertainly, the little slave obeyed. Tara took Epona's rather threadbare pair and tugged them onto her prisoner's feet. Eirian made no comment, merely watching the procedure with her quiet gray eyes.

Epona peered down at her new boots and bit her lip. "Is she yours, then, ma'am?"

"For now," Tara said coolly. "Don't know what'll happen later. We'll see what Captain Lucian has to say about spies. He might just want to kill her and have done with it." The slave flinched a bit. Tara turned her gaze on the Celt. "Do you speak Romusi or Argonian?" she demanded, forming her words in Gael.

Eirian shook her head. "No. I don't."

_Well. That'll be annoying. I'll probably have to be there to translate while they question her_. Tara pointed at the ground. "Lie down," she ordered. The captive obeyed. Tara's dark eyes flicked to Epona. "Keep an eye on her. Smack her if she moves," she said. "I'm going to find the captain and see what he wants done with her."

"S…smack…her?" Epona's eyes opened wide. Tara favored the little slave with a cool smile. Then she turned away to search for Captain Lucian.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

There was grim silence on the rocky beach where Tara had bathed only a few hours before. Captain Lucian was there, and four of his soldiers. Eirian was sitting with her back to a tree; several loops of rope lashed her to it. Tara stood between the captain and the prisoner, her arms folded, watching them both. Although the afternoon sun was shining brightly, the atmosphere seemed dark.

The cool confidence the Celt had displayed before her capture had evaporated. She now seemed very much like the young girl that she was. Her gray eyes were flicking nervously from face to face, and Tara thought she could detect a quivering about her lips.

Lucian looked at Tara. "Ask her again," he said grimly. "Tell her we're not afraid to hurt her to get the truth."

Tara looked at the prisoner down the bridge of her nose. "The captain wants to know who sent you, and why," she said. "And I'd advise you to stop stonewalling us. The boys are getting impatient. No telling what they might do to you if you don't start answering some of these questions."

"You c-can't do that!" Eirian's pale eyes filled with tears.

The redhead crouched abruptly and thrust her nose inches from the prisoner's. Her lips curved into a cold, dangerous smile. "Oh, yes, we can," she growled. "We can, and we will. And furthermore, I'll enjoy every minute of it." She saw the tears escape down Eirian's cheeks with some satisfaction. Tara waited a moment, watching the captive cry, before she spoke again. "Answer the question."

"Don't hurt me," the prisoner pleaded. "I…I wasn't sent to spy on your people, I swear. I was sent for you, Tara." The warrior raised a cool brow, but said nothing. "It's true," Eirian sobbed. "I swear it's true. I'm a priestess. My training was finished two months ago. The g-goddess sent me to find you…she said you'd be here."

"The goddess." Tara's voice was dry.

"Yes," Eirian whispered. "The Morrigan. She said you were one of hers."

Tara's expression changed. Her sandy brows lowered, and her eyes began to flash dangerously. "Oh, she did, did she?"

The teenager nodded vigorously. "I thought you'd know who I was…why I was h-here," she stammered. "I thought she'd have told you I was coming."

The warrior straightened up and folded her arms again. "The Morrigan is a bitch, just like every other goddess," she said, carefully enunciating every syllable. "She'll screw you over every goddamn chance she gets. The sooner you learn that, the better off you'll be, kid." Eirian stared at her in speechless shock.

Captain Lucian coughed. "What's she saying?"

Tara glanced at him, then back at the weeping captive. "Kid says she's just an oracle, not a spy," she said shortly.

His brows rose skeptically. "Really? Do you think she's telling the truth?"

"Oh, probably." Tara smiled grimly. "No one would be stupid enough to claim this particular goddess unless it was true." She turned away from him to pin the prisoner with her gaze again. "And what exactly did the Morrigan want from me, girl?"

Eirian hung her head. "I don't know," she whispered. "She just said I was supposed to help you with s-something. I figured you'd know, or…or that she'd tell me when I finally I found you."

Tara laughed without humor. "Well, she's certainly come through for you, hasn't she?" The young prisoner choked on a sob. The Gael cocked her head. "Just out of curiosity, and not because I don't _believe_ you, of course – did the goddess happen to give you a token of some kind? Any sort of sign that you actually came from her?"

The girl peered up at her blankly for a moment. "I…" She hesitated. "Well, I'm marked," she quavered. "On my back. The high priestess did it when I finished my training."

Without a word, Tara caught Eirian by the scruff of her neck and forced her to lean forward as much as her bonds would allow. A few tugs on the prisoner's tunic bared her to the waist. Tara peered at her back; Eirian's shoulders were covered in dark lines of tattooed ink. A raven, Tara guessed, with its wings outstretched. She released the prisoner and stood in thought. _No piddly little acolyte would be marked like that. She must be a prodigy of some kind. She's stupid as hell, but they wouldn't give her that tattoo unless she was pretty good at something_. "I don't think she's dangerous, Captain," Tara said out loud. "This tattoo proves she's a priestess of some kind. But she's not likely to be a friend of ours, either."

"Hm." Captain Lucian studied the trembling teenager in silence for a moment. "Well, if she hasn't got anything to tell us, then she isn't of much use to us."

"No. She isn't. And I don't think she does." Tara regarded the girl coldly.

The captain looked at the warrior. "We're in enemy territory, and I don't want her scuttling back to the Pictavii with anything she's learned here," he said. "I think we should hang her. But you're the one who caught her, Tara. Would you rather keep her?" Tara frowned. "If not, we'll just string her up now."

Tara's gaze flicked down to the captive. The young Celt was still shivering and weeping softly, her body hunched over in a vain attempt to cover her naked chest. Tara's jaw tightened. _The last thing I want is another slave I'll have to bother with. Epona's all I need. But…_ And here the warrior sighed inwardly. _If I let this Celt be hanged, I'll have to tell Epona what happened later._ She gave the captain a rueful look. "I'll take her," Tara said. "Hate to waste good slave flesh."

"All right," Lucian said, with a nod. "You'll be responsible for her care, then." He paused. "It would probably be safest to lock her in the brig," he said. "That area of the ship didn't take any damage."

"Good idea." Tara didn't want to have to stand guard over the Celt. She was tired; she just wanted to curl up under the gray blanket with Epona and get some rest. She flicked her dark eyes down to the frightened teenager. "If you give me the keys, I'll take her out there now. No sense wasting time."

The captain handed Tara the keys. "You can keep those for now," he said. "At least while there's no one else that needs locking up."

Tara inclined her head. Then she bent down, released the ropes that held Eirian to the tree, and pulled the girl to her feet. "You belong to me," she told her coolly, speaking once more in Gael. "And you'd better be grateful for it. You'd be having your neck stretched right now if you didn't." Tara jerked the prisoner's tunic back up to cover her. "Start walking," she growled, and they both headed toward the place where the lifeboats were moored.


	56. Chapter 56

Rain was falling, cold and relentless. Tara looked up from the peg she was whittling to scowl up at the black sky. Although a full moon had been peeking through the ragged clouds at intervals since the sun had set, the weather showed no signs of clearing.

Beside her, Epona sighed and shifted restlessly. They had been huddled since early evening beneath a makeshift shelter that Tara had erected. She'd built it out of branches, and then spread her own cloak overtop. It kept off the rain fairly well, but it was still chilly and damp – they'd been unable to keep the fire going. Tara had been whittling pegs for the shipbuilding all that night, if only to keep herself occupied. Her temper was growing short.

The little slave shifted again, and cuddled up against Tara's side. "Ma'am?" The warrior paused in her work and frowned at Epona. The moonlight filtered down to trace the smaller girl's face in silver and black. "We should maybe go and feed your prisoner," Epona said. "She's probably pretty hungry by now, right?"

The prospect of going out to _The Nereid_ in the rain was not a pleasant one. Tara slowly sheathed her knife, considering the suggestion reluctantly. _Guess the kid's right. That Celt is my responsibility, so I should make sure she's okay._ She glanced at Epona again. "Yeah. And I suppose you want to come along?" she said gruffly.

"Please." The slave gave her one of her shy smiles. "It's kind of boring here. I'd like something to do."

"All right. Don't complain to me if you're drenched later." Tara crawled out from under their shelter and inspected her cloak. Although it was waxed, the thick woolen cloth was still damp on the inside. She grimaced as she slung it over her shoulders. Epona crept out into the rain as well, draped in black fabric. Tara had inspected her prisoner's clothing, and finally decided to simply give the lot to Epona, since it was all better than what the little slave had been wearing. The sleeves were just a touch too long, but she and Eirian were close enough to the same size that everything fit fairly well. Tara eyed the girl in faint amusement. With her pale skin, Epona almost looked like a young Celt in her new clothes. "C'mon," the warrior grunted, and headed for the lifeboats.

By the time they got to the ship, both master and slave were sopping wet. Tara could see the water dripping from Epona's black curls and trickling down her face. Her lips curved, despite the uncomfortable dampness of her own clothing. _I swear, no one else could be completely drenched and still look so damn cute._ She caught at a rope and made fast to the side of _The Nereid_. Then, suddenly, Tara bent over and playfully licked at an errant water droplet on Epona's cheek. The slave gave a startled squeak. Tara chuckled with amusement and turned away to take hold of the rope ladder that swung down from the deck.

The brig was in a storeroom in the lowest level of the ship, just before the slave galley. They made their way to the door that led below the main deck, dodging the rather soggy sailors who were rebuilding the cabins. It was dark as pitch on the stair. Tara found a torch and lit it, after some hunting for her flint and striker. The two of them made their way down to the storeroom; Tara unlocked the door, and swung it open.

The flickering torchlight revealed the room. Barrels and crates were stacked everywhere. Across from the door lay the tiny cell, a simple box formed of iron bars, with a swinging door that closed with a padlock. There was a narrow bench built into the wall that served as a bunk – the brig was otherwise unfurnished. The prisoner was huddled on the hard wooden cot, her arms wrapped around herself in a pitiful effort to keep warm. Her wrists stuck out of the sleeves of Epona's old shirt. As Tara approached the cell, she saw Eirian's pale eyes glinting at them. She smirked at the prisoner and stuck her torch into a wall sconce.

Epona leaned against the bars and peered at the captive curiously. "Hi," she said. "You doing okay?"

Eirian said nothing. Tara, who was fumbling in a satchel for the food she'd brought, looked up. "She only speaks Gael and Gaulish, _beag luch,"_ she informed her. "She doesn't understand you."

"Oh." The little slave looked disappointed. She watched as Tara pulled out a chunk of bread, a strip of dried meat and a metal flask. "Can I give it to her?"

The warrior arched a brow, then shrugged her assent. She let Epona take the items from her hands. She watched with interest as the slave offered the bottle to the captive. Eirian accepted it and drank the water in silence. "Wow. Her hair's so white," Epona murmured. Then the slave extended the bread and meat through the bars, with one of her most charming little grins. The prisoner took them, and her wan face softened in an answering smile. Eirian spoke soft words in Gael. The slave gave Tara a questioning look.

"She says thank you," Tara said.

"Oh." Epona watched the prisoner eat. She seemed lost in thought. "Ma'am?"

"Mm?" Tara said mildly.

"Could I maybe stay here and teach her how to speak Argonian?" Tara frowned, and Epona gave her a pleading look. "Please, ma'am. I want to be useful," she said softly. "This is something I can do with a broken arm. She needs to learn to speak Argonian, right? Wouldn't it be better if you didn't have to translate everything for her? And she could teach me a little Gael, too, I bet. That'd come in handy."

Tara considered. What Epona said was true – it made sense. But she'd been hoping to spend the time in the small shelter, holding Epona for warmth. The warrior scratched the back of her neck and scowled. _Well, I guess we could just stay here. It's drier than our shelter. And I guess I can get Epona to sit with me here just as well as there._ "Oh, all right," she growled. "But I'll have to go back to shore first and get my stuff so I can make more pegs. You all right by yourself here?"

"I think so." The little slave put her arms around Tara's waist and hugged her gently. "Thank you, ma'am."

"Yeah, yeah." The warrior disengaged herself. She glowered in the prisoner's direction; Eirian flinched. "My slave here wants to teach you to speak Argonian," she said. "Her name's Epona. She's a good kid. I'm leaving her here while I go grab something. Upset her, and I'll kick your ass. Understand?" The Celt lowered her eyes and nodded. With that, Tara turned and stomped back up the stairs.

Tara was thoroughly drenched by the time she returned to the ship with her whittling tools. She made her way quietly down the steps and paused in the doorway of the storage room to take in the scene. Epona was sitting cross-legged on the floor with her hand curved around one of the bars of the cell. Tara's eye lingered on her profile for a moment before moving over to the captive. Eirian was sitting quietly on the floor inside, her knees hugged to her chest. The two of them were smiling and murmuring to each other. They made an interesting contrast – Eirian's white-blond pallor against Epona's dark curls. _Huh. Guess they get along_. Tara shrugged. _I shouldn't be surprised. Epona gets along with just about anyone._

Just then, the little slave noticed her owner's presence. "Ma'am, you're back." Her soft green eyes smiled a welcome. "I think we're doing pretty good. Did you know that 'shrón' means 'nose' in Gael?" Epona stopped, and her cheeks flushed. "Oh, wait. Of course you do. Never mind."

The redhead gave Epona a brief, indulgent smile. "Glad you're making progress." She glanced around, dragged a sturdy crate over with her foot, and parked herself on it, shedding her dripping cloak. "Don't mind me," Tara said mildly, as she took out her whittling supplies.

It took a few minutes, but the two girls were soon chatting quietly again, as Tara's presence faded into the background. The warrior carved in silence, setting aside the pegs as she finished them, and watched her two charges. Her eyes lingered on Eirian. _Strange. The whole thing's just strange_. She studied the Celt's youthful face. _Assuming that she's not lying, why would the Morrigan send her to me? I don't need help. Even if I did, I certainly wouldn't need some sixteen-year-old twerp._

_And why now?_ Tara wondered. _For a powerful, jealous war goddess, the ol' Morry's been pretty quiet in my life. Haven't seen or felt a thing from her since they tattooed me back in Gael. She never showed her face when I needed her. Why would she suddenly surface now, and send me some stupid, wet-behind-the-ears kid? The last thing I want is to have to babysit on this journey_.

Scowling, Tara bent her head over her work. _I don't even know why I'm going back to Gaelis after all this time_, she grumbled to herself. _It's all Epona's fault. I could've jumped on a ship and headed east instead…maybe to Persia, or something. But that ruddy little slave looked at me all sweetly, and I thought about Maggie, and…gods. What am I even doing? There's nothing left for me in Gaelis. I never cared about anybody or anything there except for Maggie, and she's dead_. The warrior inspected her latest peg, compared it to a finished one, and began to shorten it carefully. _This is probably all a big mistake. I'll just show Epona my hometown for a few days, and then we'll leave. She wanted to see Egypt, anyway. I'll take her there_. She frowned. _Just begs the question of what to do with Blondie_.

"Ma'am?" The gentle voice broke into Tara's thoughts. The redhead looked up to find Epona looking at her. "Do you think you could help us a little? Do you have time?" the slave asked softly. "It's kind of slow going…and you know both languages, so…"

Tara grunted, glanced down at her work, and shrugged. "Eh, why not? Kind of cold, anyway." She tossed aside her tools, got up, and moved over to where Epona was. Tara sat down. "C'mere." Grasping the slave lightly around the waist, she tugged her into her lap, and then enfolded her in her arms. Tara felt Epona lean into her and sigh in contentment. "All right," the warrior said gruffly. "What d'you need help with, little mouse?"

"I want to just talk to her," Epona murmured. "How do you say 'my name is'?"

For the next several minutes, Tara coached the two girls through a basic conversation. Eirian kept glancing at Tara; there was nervousness and curiosity in her face. After a while, Tara gave Epona a nudge. "I'm going to talk to her for a minute," she said shortly. "Hang on." The little slave nodded quietly, leaning back into her owner's body. Tara caught the gray eyes with her own. "So tell me, Eirian," she said. "Are you from Gael?"

The Celt nodded. "Yes, warrior," she said. "My parents went to Gael from Britannia before I was born, trying to escape the Romusi invasion."

"And they sold you to the Morrigan, I assume?" Tara cocked a cool brow at her. "Since you're a priestess so young."

Eirian lowered her eyes. "Yes," she said softly. "The high priestess took me when I was six years old, because I…I spoke the Morrigan's words." She fidgeted a little. "I've been the voice of the goddess in Carrick on Shannon since I was twelve. But when the prophecy came about you, High Priestess Grainne told me to come find you."

Tara's lip curved in a sneer. "And the ever-helpful goddess hasn't enlightened you as to what exactly you're supposed to do for me, hm?"

"No." There was a pause. Eirian peered at her for a moment or two from beneath her blonde lashes. "You're…not really what I expected," she murmured. "Which is kind of stupid, I guess. I mean, the Morrigan did say you were her creature."

The warrior bent forward abruptly, startling the slave in her arms. Darting a hand through the bars, Tara caught Eirian by the collar and jerked her forward, nearly dashing her face into the metal. Her brown eyes glittered with anger. "Let's get one thing straight, Celt," she hissed. "I may have been claimed by the war gods, but I am no one's creature. I pledged my sword and my soul to the Morrigan years ago, and she never did jack for me. So she can bite me. Understand?"

The captive had given a gasping cry when she was seized. Now she nodded, her jaw trembling just a bit. "Okay," she faltered. "For…forgive me, warrior."

Epona peered up at Tara as the warrior sat back, her moss-green eyes filling with tears. "What happened?" she whispered. The sudden violence had obviously frightened her. "What did she do?"

"Never mind," Tara growled. She felt Epona shivering. With a sigh, she pulled the smaller girl up against herself and began to stroke her back. "It's okay," Tara said quietly. "It's got nothing to do with you, all right? Relax. You're fine." The little slave clung to her in silence. Coolly, Tara met Eirian's gaze again. "I don't know what I'm going to do with you yet," she said. "I'm going to keep you for now, at least until this ship lands in Britannia. But once we set foot on land, all bets are off." Tara lifted a brow. "Do you catch my drift?"

The prisoner scooted back against the bench and huddled there, hugging her knees to her chest. "Yes," she said. She looked up at Tara unhappily. "What do you want me to do, warrior?"

"Whatever I say, of course. But nothing at the moment." The Gael smirked. Then she lowered her eyes to her slave. Epona's head was resting against her owner's shoulder. Tara nudged her. "Hey. Time to go back to shore," she said. "We'll grab something to eat and get some sleep, all right?"

"Okay." Epona sighed and looked at the prisoner. "How do you say goodbye in Gael?" Tara told her. The warrior watched as the little slave crawled off her lap and slipped her hand through the bars. Eirian took it, and the two of them murmured their goodbyes.

Calmly, the redhead rose to her feet, shook out her cloak, and gathered up her whittling supplies. "Come, Epona," she said shortly, taking the torch from its holder. The slave looked up at her. "The sooner we go out in the rain, the sooner we can dry off and get something to eat. Let's go." Epona nodded quietly and got up to follow.

"Wait. Please." Eirian's voice arrested Tara at the door. She looked back. The torchlight picked out a few vague details of the brig; she could make out the pale shape of the prisoner, hovering like a ghost behind the metal bars. "It's really cold and dark down here," Eirian said softly. "If…if your people have a blanket or something they could spare, I'd be very grateful, warrior."

Tara looked at her in silence. The available blankets had already been parceled out among the members of the crew, and the spares had been given to the galley slaves. She rather doubted that anyone would be willing to give up their bit of warmth for what they would view as a spy and an enemy. The redhead pursed her lips for a moment. "I'll see what I can do," she said quietly. "I make no promises, Celt."

The prisoner gave a deep sigh and sagged against the bars. "Thank you." The words were dispirited. Without further ceremony, Tara put her arm around Epona's shoulders and guided her up the steps that led to the outside world.


	57. Chapter 57

The tension level in the camp had been high for the past two days. They had used up six of the promised seven days, and Captain Lucian had wondered whether the Pictavii might attack them prematurely, but it looked as if they would be able to escape unscathed. _The Nereid_ had been repaired, and now every able-bodied man and woman was hard at work moving all their supplies back into the ship. They would set sail the very moment the last of the supplies was on board – which would give them the six or so hours before nightfall to put some distance between themselves and this particular section of the Gaulish coast.

Tara was calmly putting her things away in her new cabin. She'd worked tirelessly for many hours before deciding to set her own room in order. The work was nearly done, anyway. Any minute now, she was expecting to feel the ship begin to move as the anchors were raised.

Epona stowed her little bundle of things safely, then sat down on the lower bunk, swinging her legs. "I'm glad we're going," she said softly. "I didn't like having to worry all the time about those men coming back."

The warrior glanced at her with some amusement. "And this is different than worrying all the time about the Amazons finding us, how?"

A puzzled look crossed Epona's face, and she scratched her head. "I guess it really isn't, is it?" she said at length. There was a pause. Tara completed her work and rose to her feet, dusting off her hands. "Ma'am?" The slave regarded her gravely. "Is…is it always going to be like this?" she asked. "Are we always going to be running away from something?"

"Nah." Tara chuckled softly. "Most of the time we'll be the ones doing the chasing."

The little slave winced and looked down. "Isn't that kind of worse?" she murmured.

"Nope." The warrior sat down on the bed beside her and leaned back against the wall with a leisurely yawn. "It's eat or be eaten out there, kid. You always want to be the predator, if you can. That's how you live to see tomorrow."

The green eyes peered at her sideways. "Is that why you took Eirian prisoner, ma'am?"

Tara raised a brow. "No," she said coolly. "I took Eirian because she was a stranger who approached me in hostile territory and admitted to following me. Anybody would have done the same thing I did. And they were going to kill her – would have been a waste." She thought she felt the ship lurch a bit; Tara got up to peer out their porthole window.

The little slave looked down. She was picking absently at the blanket on which she was sitting. "Do you think she's pretty?"

"Hrm?" Tara said absently, still trying to see if _The Nereid_ was moving yet. "Who?"

"Eirian." Pause. "Do you think she's pretty?"

At this, Tara frowned and cast a glance at Epona over her shoulder. The smaller girl was still scratching at the surface of the blanket, and her green eyes were averted. The warrior was puzzled. "She's fine, I guess. She's not hideous. What difference does that make? I imagine spies come in all shapes and sizes." There was a definite lurch beneath Tara's feet. She looked back out the window, and saw the distant shore begin to move away. Her lips curved into a triumphant grin.

"But she isn't a spy anymore, right?" Epona's voice was quiet. "She's a slave, now." A beat of silence. "Your slave."

"My prisoner, would be more accurate." Tara nodded to herself. _My prisoner. I don't really need two slaves. But just what in the hell am I going to do with her once we've hit Britannia? Haul her along in chains?_ She gave an aggrieved sigh. "But yes, I suppose she is."

There was silence for a while. "Do you…" Epona sounded hesitant. "Do you think she's prettier than me, ma'am?"

This finally got Tara's full attention. She turned from the window to face her slave, her brows lifting in astonishment. "What?" Epona fidgeted, but didn't repeat the question. Tara detected a subtle quiver of the girl's lower lip. _I don't believe it._ The warrior's eyes twinkled with amusement. _I never figured Epona for the vain type. Maybe this is like when two warriors get together, and have to figure out which one of them's stronger – maybe two pretty girls have to figure out which one's prettier before they can move on._ "Look, Epona, you're both good-looking in different ways. If I had to pick, you're the one I'm sleeping with, so I'd pick you. Happy?"

Epona didn't seem entirely satisfied with this answer, but she nodded slowly. "Okay."

"Good." Tara ruffled the slave girl's hair. "Now, let's get you down there for the next language lesson, _beag luch._ We'll probably get to Britannia in eight or nine days, so we should try to get you speaking as much Gael as we can by then." Epona quietly got up and followed her master.

Eirian's gray eyes lit up when her visitors appeared in the doorway. She moved to the bars and smiled at Epona, greeting her in her halting Argonian. The little slave smiled back and answered her in broken Gael, then laughed and looked at Tara. "How long do you think it will be before we can really talk to each other, ma'am?" she asked.

"It shouldn't be too horribly long," Tara shrugged. "You've both learned a fair bit already. I think you'll be more or less talking to each other by the time we land in Britannia." She glanced back at the door. "I'm going to go up to the crow's nest to keep watch," she said. "You two do your thing, all right, _beag luch?_ I'll come back and get you at supper time." Before she'd even thought about it, Tara found herself hugging Epona with one arm and kissing the top of her head.

"Okay." The slave smiled, her delight at the attention showing plainly in her face. Tara felt a sudden jolt of warmth as her eyes met the soft green ones – her heart began to beat faster. It was less bewildering to her now that she knew what it was, but the warrior still found her mouth suddenly going dry. She turned her eyes away and hoped that her face hadn't turned as red as it felt. Tara mumbled something unintelligible, released her grip on the tantalizing little body, and beat a retreat back up the steps.

_All right, Tara, just get…get a grip._ The warrior rubbed her face impatiently as she emerged onto the ship's deck. _You've got six hours left to work, and you haven't slept in twenty hours. The last thing you need is to be muddled by this…problem._

She still hadn't succeeded in finding a solution, or even a strategy to use in dealing with this…this unforeseen affection. Tara grimaced as she began to scale the rigging_. I don't even want to think the words. The Terror of Gaelis, in love. What the hell's the world coming to?_ She caught the rail of the rebuilt crow's nest, pressed her body up and over it, and settled herself in the small wooden structure_. And the object of my affections. Gods. Is it some warrior woman? Is it some rich, beautiful creature with royal blood? No. It's the tiny little runt from some two-bit noble's litter, a slave girl who wouldn't even know which end of a mace to hold. A poet, by all that's unholy!_

Tara sighed as her sharp brown eyes scanned the shoreline. She put her thoughts on hold so she could look carefully. Captain Lucian had expressed some concerns as to whether the Gauls would try to attack them at sea. Tara highly doubted it, since _The Nereid_ was a Romusi war transport, and Gaulish ships would be no match for it, but she'd agreed to keep watch anyway. There was no sign of pursuit.

_Right. So – back to my little problem._ The warrior rested her chin on her arms and gave the inoffensive shore a bemused look. _The kid's still my slave. But not only have I promised never to hit her again, I'm…in love with her_. Tara rubbed her eyes. _Gods, I'm fooling myself. I've lost control. It's gone. I…I don't know what to do_.

It was a staggering admission. When Tara had stood over her mother's still form at fifteen, she had vowed that no one would ever make her powerless again. She had been driven ever since – striving to ensure that she was never in a situation where she wasn't in control. And now, somehow, she'd lost it. Worse than that, she had no idea how to get it back…or even whether she could. This wasn't an enemy that she could fight with a sword_. Do I even want to fight it?_ Tara grimaced again.

_This isn't getting me anywhere_. The warrior scowled and paused in her thoughts to carefully scan the horizon. There was still no sign of any other ships, and the clouds overhead, while gray, were straggly and unthreatening. _Okay – so I don't know what to do about Epona. I guess I'll just stay on the course I've set until I figure out something different._ Dark eyes narrowed. _So what do I do about Eirian?_

As little as Tara wanted to admit it, she found the Celt a little…intriguing. While Eirian was obviously afraid of her captors, she still carried herself with dignity, and her faith in the Morrigan was very plainly unshaken. Tara wasn't quite sure yet whether that faith was based on Eirian's youth and inexperience, or whether it was something more substantial. While Tara had considered simply leaving the girl behind when they left Gaul, the question had interested her enough that she'd decided against it. The redhead rubbed the back of her neck. _Wonder which option I'm hoping is true?_ Her lips curved into a sardonic smile. _Well, if she's just a stupid, clueless little girl, I'll be proved right. Ego boost for me. If not…_ Tara inhaled deeply. _If not, the goddess actually sent her to me. And that would probably mean the Morrigan wants to collect on what I promised way back when. The gods only know what that would entail_.

Tara made a face at the idea. She'd blown off the Argonian gods on the strength of the fact that she was a Gael, but the Morrigan actually had a claim on her. As little as Tara liked to think about it, there was a possibility that her fighting prowess had been enhanced by the goddess. That, coupled with the fact that Tara had offered her sword on the Morrigan's altar, carried with it a certain obligation.

The warrior shifted uneasily. _And here I am, heading straight back to Gaelis. That's her turf. That feels a lot less like a coincidence than I'd like._

Then again, Tara had never yet backed down from a challenge. And this could most certainly be a challenge. She wasn't about to turn tail and run just because of what the Morrigan _might_ do, goddess or no. She turned her eyes northward and glowered at the open sea. _You hear that? I'm still coming. I'm not backing down. What are you going to do about it?_ A light prickling of adrenaline moved over her body, and she grinned.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

It was hard to believe that it had only been four days since Eirian's capture. Despite the language barrier, Epona already felt that they were friends.

Right now, the two of them were playing a game of dice, it being something they could do together with a minimum of words required. They were using a handful of colorful pebbles as betting chips. Epona had gathered them on the beach for this very purpose. At the moment, Eirian was winning handily. Epona shook the dice in her fist and raised her brows questioningly. The Celt smirked at her. "Over," she said. Epona tossed the dice. "Seven!" Eirian chortled, clapping her hands.

"You win." The little slave obligingly handed over the last of her pebbles. "Play again?"

Pale eyes met hers. "No." Eirian paused, her brow furrowed in concentration. "Want…talk more. Teach me."

Epona smiled and nodded. She took back the pebbles and, sorting through them, laid out six of different colors. The Celt nodded and, reaching through the bars of her prison, touched one with a fingertip. "Black."

"Yes." The Argonian smiled encouragingly.

Eirian moved through them, one at a time. "White. Red. Brown. Blue. Yellow." Her gaze lifted to Epona's face, and her expression took on a hint of mischief. She lifted a finger to touch the Argonian's cheek, very gently, next to her eye. "Green."

The little slave couldn't help laughing. "That's right," she said. "You're pretty funny, aren't you?" Eirian's brows lowered. "Funny," Epona repeated, miming laughter.

"Funny," Eirian murmured, forming the syllables carefully. "Fun-nee." She was so interesting to look at. Epona cocked her head, marveling yet again at the color of the girl's hair. She'd never seen anything like it before. It was just as exotic, in its own way, as Tara's flame-red locks. And Eirian's eyes fascinated her, too – pale silver, like crystal.

Abruptly, Epona realized that she was staring, and that one of Eirian's blond brows was edging upward. The slave blushed to the roots of her hair and quickly looked away. "Sorry," she stammered. Eirian only laughed. Epona decided she liked her laugh, too. It was pleasant and musical, rather like the tongue the pale girl spoke. "Play…?" The Argonian held up the dice again, still blushing furiously. The gray eyes twinkled their assent.

Epona couldn't help feeling twinges of something like jealousy sometimes. After all, if Tara were to lose interest in her, what would she do? And Tara had taken this fair-skinned girl, even if she hadn't shown any interest in Eirian in…_that way_. The little slave thought about that as the Celt divided the pebbles between the two of them. _I like her anyway,_ Epona decided. _I do. I think we'll be friends._

The thought made her happy. The closest thing she'd had to a friend since being made Tara's slave, besides Tara herself, had been Bernice. She still missed the older woman. The idea of having a new friend made Epona feel warm. She smiled up at the enigmatic girl on the other side of the bars and shook the dice. "You first, or me?"


	58. Chapter 58

_Britannia._ Epona took a deep breath of moisture-laden air, her body quivering with excitement. _Wow. I can't believe we're finally here!_

Of course, they hadn't really seen much yet. They'd only just gotten off _The Nereid_ that afternoon, and Tara was still talking with Captain Lucian, making sure that she'd discharged all her duties before she left. Epona and Eirian were waiting quietly on the dock. Eirian was wearing the slave collar and shackles that Tara had once placed on her other slave. Epona's fingers drifted up to touch her own throat, marveling at how odd it felt to encounter only warm skin, instead of the familiar metal band.

It had been so strange. Tara had just shown up in the storeroom where the two girls were quietly talking. She'd curtly commanded Epona to stand up. The little slave had obeyed, with some confusion. The warrior had removed the collar without a word of explanation, and left. Both it and the shackles had reappeared this morning and been placed on the Celtic prisoner.

_Strange,_ Epona thought. Her eyes moved toward the village that lay ahead of her, brightening with curiosity. It was a Romus-controlled settlement – Cardiff – an outpost of the invasion bent on adding Britannia to the Romusi empire. She could see the Romusi influence in the building styles, and most of the people had the tan skin and dark hair she knew, but there were some fair-skinned faces. Epona wondered if Tara would take her to see a village populated by the natives of this country.

Eirian sighed, attracting Epona's attention. The little slave peered at her. "Are you okay?" she asked softly.

The Celt looked at her and smiled, nodding. "Yes," she said, forming the word in her accented Argonian. "Is good…no more in there." And she pointed back at the ship with her chin. "Sun." Her pale eyes warmed as they looked up.

"Yeah." Epona gave her a smile. "I bet you missed that in prison." She brushed her fingertips over the shackles on Eirian's arms. "Maybe we can get Tara to take these off soon."

The prisoner nodded. "Yes. Is good," she murmured. She tugged lightly on the chain that held her wrists together. "Hurt."

"Yeah, I know. They do kind of rub, don't they?" Epona grimaced sympathetically, remembering her own stint in the shackles. She gave the Celtic girl a pat on the arm. "We'll work on Tara. Just try not to pull on them, okay? It makes it worse." Eirian's brow furrowed quizzically. The little slave demonstrated, twitching the cuff on the girl's right wrist. "Don't pull," she said. "It'll hurt more."

"Ah." The Celt nodded. "Yes. I understand."

A heavy tread approached. Epona didn't have to look to know that it was Tara. She did anyway, lifting her eyes to look at her owner. The woman was dressed in her full armor, and the polished brass shone brightly in the early winter sunlight. Between the gold and the brilliant scarlet of her hair, she looked to Epona like some kind of a living flame. The little slave felt her breath catch and her cheeks warm. She gave the warrior a shy smile.

She was rewarded with a grin and a rough tousling of her curls. "Well, seems there's a three-day walk between us and a ferry heading to Gaelis," Tara said. "You ready for a bit of a journey, _beag luch?"_

"Okay." Epona's smile widened. She thought it might be nice to travel and camp together, now that they'd lost their Amazon pursuers. It would probably be a lot more relaxed – it might even be fun. A thought came to her. "Are there any hot springs in Britannia?" she wanted to know.

Tara looked at her, one brow lifting suggestively. Epona flushed scarlet. "There might be," the warrior said. "Are you hinting that we should take a detour before we catch our boat, you randy little mouse?"

"Maybe, yeah." The little slave's ears burned. She moved and pressed her hands up against the stiff leather that covered the warrior's flat stomach. It felt warm beneath her palms. "It'd be nice to just take our time," she whispered. "I mean, we've been running so hard all this time…wouldn't it be kind of fun to just relax a bit, ma'am?"

"Mm. It might." Tara's strong arms rested loosely around Epona's body. The slave timidly leaned forward to rest her forehead against the taller woman's breastplate. The warm smells of leather and steel wafted up around her – the scent of her owner. She breathed it deeply. She heard leather creaking as Tara bent forward, and felt the woman's breath against the side of her neck. Epona shivered at the sensation. "So you want me to take you into a hot spring and ravish you, is that the idea?" Tara's voice was a low rumble in her ear. Epona shivered again and tried to answer, but all that came out of her mouth was a soft sound like the coo of a dove.

After a few seconds, Tara chuckled and, patting her lightly on the bottom, released her grip. "All right," she said. "I'll find us a couple of places to go – show you around Britannia for a couple of days. We'll see if we can't find you some more story material, squirt. Sound good?"

Epona's green eyes glowed. "Thank you, ma'am."

"Yeah, yeah." The warrior gave her a playful shove on the shoulder that nearly sent Epona sprawling. "Come on, now, both of you. Winter's well on the way now, so we'd better get the mighty oracle some warmer clothes." Tara reached out a powerful hand, closed it firmly on Eirian's upper arm, and headed into the settlement. The Celt stumbled along in her captor's wake. Epona followed, biting her lips against a feeble protest.

The clothes here were different, Epona noticed, eyeing the people they were passing. In Romus and Argonia, tunics and togas were worn mostly with bare legs, and cloaks were often a decorative thing, rather than a necessity. But the air here was cold and wet, and Epona didn't even want to try going about bare-legged. She drew the black cloak tighter around her shoulders and hurried after her owner.

It didn't take long to find a tailor's shop. Tara picked out a pair of warm boots, leggings and a cloak for Eirian. "That should be enough," she said calmly, fingering the material of the tunic the Celt was wearing. "The sleeves on this are a little short, but it's still good. I think she can make do with it." Her gaze flicked to Epona. "Don't you think?"

It felt rude to talk about her friend as if she weren't standing right there. Epona glanced into the girl's pale eyes apologetically. "Um…I guess it's your decision, ma'am," she said softly. "It is your money, after all." Tara gave her a smirk and turned away to haggle over prices.

Eirian's gray eyes were soft. "Is okay," she murmured to Epona. The little slave stared at her for a moment, and the Celt smiled. "Is okay," she said again.

_She understands_. Epona threaded her fingers into Eirian's and gave them a little squeeze. The blond girl squeezed back, her smile full of warmth. Epona smiled back. _I like her. She's so nice!_

Tara returned a minute or two later and tossed the bundle of clothes at the Celt. Eirian caught them with a startled look; the warrior said something in Gael that Epona couldn't understand. Eirian bowed her head in assent. Tara looked back at Epona and extended an arm. "Come on, little mouse," she said calmly. "Let's go find ourselves an inn with a nice soft bed for the night." The little slave crept forward; the arm draped over her shoulders. "Sound good?"

Epona looked up. The warrior's piercing brown eyes were gazing down at her. They were twinkling with seductive mischief. "Yeah," the slave whispered, feeling her ears begin to burn for the second time in an hour. "That sounds nice."

"Heh." Tara kissed the top of her head. "Let's go."

The woman had been different this past week, Epona reflected, following after her. Tara was still a bit rough with her, but she'd been touching her differently – more hugs and affectionate ruffles of her hair than impatient cuffs and pushes. She wasn't sure if that was because Tara was turning her aggression on Eirian, or if it meant something else. _I hope it isn't that she's going to be horrible to Eirian, even if it has been better for me_, she thought_. It has been kind of good, though_, her mind added guiltily. _She hasn't been mad at me once all week._

They went through the town, stopping once to ask for directions, and wound up at a fairly sizable, comfortable-looking inn. It was called _The Friendly Shore Inn,_ according to the sign that hung over the door.

Tara went at once to the innkeeper and slapped down a few coins on the counter. The man looked at her suspiciously. "Can I help you?" he asked coolly, his eye straying to Epona, looking her up and down, and then moving back to the Gael. Epona's brow furrowed.

The redhead folded her arms across her chest and regarded him levelly. Her lips curved into a knowing smile. "Relax. I just sailed in with Captain Lucian's crew from Romus," she said. "I'm not here to rape, rob or pillage you." Then she arched one brow, with a lazy, sexy smile. "Unless you want me to, of course." The innkeeper's eyes boggled, and Tara gave him an impatient look. "Look, I just got off my ship, and I'm tired. My slaves and I need a room. Do you want my money or not?"

"All right." He looked suspicious, but he took the coins she'd laid down. "Second door on the left down the hall. But you surrender your weapons here." The warrior's brows edged upward, and her eyes began to flash. The innkeeper's chin jutted stubbornly. "No armed Gaels or Brits here," he growled. "Cardiff policy."

Epona slipped forward and laid her hands on her owner's arm. She could feel the warrior's muscles tensing as her temper rose. Those dangerous brown eyes flicked down to look at Epona, and Tara's face crumpled into a scowl. "Ma'am," Epona murmured, "it's just for tonight, right?" The redhead paused, and the slave gently stroked the warm skin under her fingers. Epona wasn't really sure what she was doing, but she knew she didn't want to see anyone get hurt. "You don't really need them overnight, do you? We'll be asleep…and I'm sure we can get them again first thing in the morning. We always leave really early, anyway."

The anger in Tara's blazing eyes cooled a bit. She searched Epona's face in stony silence for several moments. Then she pulled her arm sharply from the slave's grip. Epona stepped back, lowering her head and clasping her hands behind her back submissively. "Fine," she heard her owner say. "But if I see one scratch on any of my weapons in the morning, I'll take your head off with it. You got me?" There was scuffling, and a few words that Epona didn't hear. Then Tara's solid grip fell on her arm, and she was being drawn firmly up the hall that led to their room. The warrior barked something in Gael; Eirian murmured a soft response.

The little slave wasn't quite sure whether to be afraid or not. She knew Tara was still upset, but the grip on her arm wasn't painfully tight, as it usually was when the warrior was furious with her. _Maybe if I just stay quiet, it'll be okay_. She snuck a look behind her at the fair-skinned prisoner. Eirian met her gaze and gave a helpless shrug.

They reached their room. Without a word, Tara pulled Epona inside and released her arm. The slave shrank away. Tara waited until Eirian had entered, closed the door firmly behind her, and turned to face Epona. The little slave peered up at her, fidgeting, afraid of what she might see. The Gael's expression was grim, but her eyes were neither spitting fire nor cold as ice. There was silence for a moment. "What'd you do that for?" Tara asked abruptly. Her hand fell heavily on Epona's shoulder and held her still.

Epona squirmed a bit, trying to ease the woman's grip, and the powerful hand tightened subtly. The slave immediately stopped moving and dropped her eyes to the floor. "I just didn't want anybody to get hurt," she whispered.

"Is that so?" Tara's voice was cool.

"Yes, ma'am." Epona fidgeted. Then she slowly looked up once again. The Gael's expression hadn't softened, but she didn't seem angrier, either_. I should apologize…promise I won't do it again…I…_ She opened her mouth, and then stopped suddenly_. Wait. She told me to just shut up if she was getting mad._ Epona hesitated, closed her jaw tightly, and returned her gaze to the ground.

There was silence for a painfully long time. Finally, Tara gave her a light shake and let her go. "Next time, you just shut your mouth. Understand?" Epona nodded meekly. "Good." The warrior nudged her. "Now you get everything put away and set up the way I like it. Show Blondie over there how it's done. I've got something to do – I'll be back in a few minutes."

Relief made Epona's knees feel weak. She took a deep breath as the door closed behind the taller woman. A moment later, Eirian's hand rested on her arm. "You good, Epona?" Pale gray eyes peered anxiously into hers.

The little slave inhaled again and nodded, turning a weak smile on the girl. "I'm okay," she said softly. "Come on. Let me show you how Tara likes things set up."

By the time the warrior returned, their possessions were neatly put away, and the corner of the bedclothes had been turned over the way she liked it. Epona shifted nervously, but Tara seemed satisfied. "Good work," the redhead remarked, glancing around the room. She looked at the bed, and then at Eirian; a string of words in Gael followed, of which Epona only understood a few. Without a word, the blond prisoner dug in a pack and began to lay out a bedroll with her shackled hands. Tara's gaze flicked to Epona. "Come," she said curtly, and headed out of the room. Epona blinked, but did as she was told.

They headed farther up the hall. Then the warrior opened a door and motioned the slave inside. Epona obeyed, and stood blinking at the inside of the room. It was fairly small, and empty save for a large wooden tub in the middle of the floor. Steam wafted gently off the surface of the water. Confused, the little slave looked up at her owner.

Tara was smirking. "What? Never seen a bathtub before?" She stooped and started tugging off her boots.

Epona stared at her. "Um…well, yes. But I thought…" She hesitated. "I thought you were angry with me, ma'am," she admitted.

The Gael's head lifted long enough for her to give Epona a wry look. "I'm done being mad at you, squirt," she said. "If I were still pissed off, you'd know about it." She finished with her boots and, straightening up, began to work on her shirt. "Well? Out of those clothes, little mouse. Let's not waste the hot water. I paid extra for it, y'know."

"O-okay." Epona decided not to question the unexpected good luck. She obediently stripped down.

There was a moment of painful self-consciousness as the slave laid her hands on the waistband of her leggings, and she hesitated. Tara, already unabashedly naked, grinned at her. "Do you need help with that, mouse-girl?" Epona blushed scarlet and shook her head. Her eyes trailed appreciatively down the warrior's long body. The leggings suddenly seemed like an annoyance; Epona quickly wriggled out of them. Her owner stepped into the bath and sat down. "C'mere, then, runt," she said. Epona slipped into the warm water. A moment later, she felt Tara's powerful arms hook around her waist and pull her into her lap.

It was good. The heat of the bath was a pleasant counterpoint to the chill of the air. Epona leaned back into Tara's body and sighed. A long arm extended to the side of the tub, grasped a sponge, and dipped beneath the water. A moment later, Epona felt its rough surface rubbing from her knee to her hip, moving in slow circles. She shivered at the sensation. Tara laughed softly against her neck, her breath sending goosebumps skittering across the surface of her skin. "You like that, _beag luch?"_

That was Tara's deepest voice – it rolled pleasantly in Epona's ears. The little slave shivered with delight, her former worry completely forgotten. "Yeah," she whispered.

"Mm." The warrior gave a sensual growl and bit lightly at the spot where Epona's neck met her shoulder. The sponge, meanwhile, had finished washing her leg, and was now making its way across her belly in slow strokes. "How about this?"

"It's nice." Epona couldn't quite help wriggling as the sponge moved down her other leg. Her back arched a bit. Then she fumbled at Tara's hand. The warrior stopped in surprise, and Epona gained possession of the sponge. With a triumphant little grin, she turned so that she was kneeling between Tara's thighs. "My turn," she said. The look of dark pleasure in the warrior's eyes made Epona's breath come faster. She leaned forward against Tara's body, rested her head against her shoulder, and looped her injured arm around her waist to steady herself. With her free hand, Epona began to bathe all the bare skin within her reach. Tara groaned deep in her throat and began to explore Epona's lips with her own.

The sponge and the bath were soon forgotten. Epona's focus scattered like a flock of birds, until she was only aware of Tara's touch. Long fingers brushed her back – soft lips nibbled her neck and jaw – a strong thigh slid up to press in between hers. Passion built and built. Epona could barely catch her breath; she clung to her lover and gasped helplessly. At last, the pleasure exploded through her, sending her muscles into spasms! She cried out, burying her face in the soft skin of Tara's chest. Water splashed and rippled around them.

Gradually, Epona's senses returned. She found herself cradled in Tara's arms. The warrior's hand was rubbing her back soothingly. The little slave murmured; she slipped her arms around Tara's body in a gentle hug. The taller woman chuckled. "Well, it's not a hot spring. But how was that, little mouse?"

"So good." Epona's mumble was all but swallowed up as she nuzzled at Tara's neck.

Tara chuckled again, and ducked her head down to claim the little slave's mouth in a tender kiss. Epona groaned softly. "Good," the warrior said, pulling back a little. "Now, let's try to get washed before the water gets cold."

They spent a very pleasant quarter of an hour in doing just that. When they were both thoroughly clean, Tara took Epona out of the tub and dried her thoroughly, leaving her skin tingling. Then she began to dry herself off; her brown eyes twinkled wickedly. "You going to get dressed, squirt, or are you going to walk back to our room naked?" Tara flicked her fingers lazily. "Not that I'd object, of course…"

The little slave flushed scarlet, and Tara laughed. Epona pouted as she retrieved her tunic. "You're always teasing me."

"Mea culpa." Tara threw on her shirt and pulled her trousers into place. Epona was still tugging up her leggings; she suddenly felt a light slap on her bare bottom. It nearly made her tumble to the floor. She squeaked indignantly and glowered up at her owner as she finished dressing. Tara gave a wicked little chuckle. "C'mon. Let's go make sure the Celt hasn't burned our room down."

Tara entered the room first, trailed by her slave girl. When Epona entered, she looked around for Eirian. The prisoner was curled up on the bedroll on the floor, covered by a blanket, sound asleep. The fire on the hearth was crackling merrily, and everything looked like it was ready for the night. Tara glanced down at the slumbering Celt. Her dark eyes were inscrutable. After a moment she shrugged, lifted her eyes to Epona's, and extended her arm in invitation. "Guess I might as well go to bed," she said quietly. There was a seductive note to her voice that made the little slave shiver in reawakened anticipation. "Care to join me?"

And Epona did.


	59. Chapter 59

It was late. Golden sunlight was streaming in the window, casting bars of warmth across the floor. Epona felt very safe and very comfortable. She was curled up on the bed, her head and shoulders resting against Tara's body; the warrior's arms were draped over her, and she could feel her breath stirring the hair on the top of her head. The slave shut her eyes and sighed happily.

Long fingers wormed their way through the dark curls at the back of Epona's neck. She looked up to find Tara's dark eyes gazing down at her. The warrior was relaxed, and her eyes were half-closed. A smile curved the woman's mouth. "Good morning, little mouse," she said.

The slave reached up to touch Tara's lips, drawing her fingertips along them in timid curiosity. "Good morning," she whispered. "How come we're still here? I thought you wanted to leave early today, ma'am."

Tara's sandy brows came down. "Decided I'd rather laze around a couple days first," she growled. "You got a problem with that, rodent?"

Somehow, Epona knew Tara wasn't really angry. "No," she said softly, resting her hand flat against the warrior's naked belly. "I just wondered."

"Hmph." Tara eyed her. "Well, if you must know, I decided maybe we should stick around and replace that gambeson you lost." Her callused hand rubbed over Epona's back. "And maybe get you a little knife of your own, too," she said, "so I won't have to lend you one of mine if we get in trouble."

The little slave's eyes widened. "Really?"

"Mm-hmm. No good teaching you to use a dagger if you don't have one, is it?" Tara said lightly.

A wrinkle appeared on Epona's brow. "But…aren't you worried I might…" She stopped abruptly as she realized what she was saying. The warrior's dark eyes met hers. With a gulp, Epona looked away. "Never mind."

"Aren't I worried you might what?" Tara said coolly. The curly-haired girl stayed silent. A rough hand grasped her firmly by the back of the neck, forcing her head up; Epona gave a pained gasp as her gaze met her owner's again. "You might what?" Tara repeated. Although she spoke softly, there was a dangerous edge to her voice.

The slave inwardly cursed her loose tongue. "Nothing, ma'am," she said humbly. "I just thought most people would worry about giving their slave a weapon. You know, because…well, some slaves might…misuse them. But I wouldn't! I wouldn't ever." She could feel her heart beginning to race. "Please, I swear I didn't mean anything by it, ma'am."

"No?" Without releasing the scruff of Epona's neck, Tara rested a finger on the end of the slave's nose. "So that wasn't a threat, little slave girl?"

Epona was suddenly very conscious of the smooth power that lay coiled in the muscles of her captor. Even if the woman had promised not to hit her anymore, Epona couldn't be sure it was true. Her eyes filled with tears. "No," she whispered, quivering with fear. "I…I would never."

Those cool brown eyes searched hers for a moment more. Then some of the danger seemed to fade. The long finger that lay against her nose tapped her. "I hope not," Tara said calmly. "I've gotten used to having you around, and I'd like to keep it that way. So just you make sure you don't do anything stupid." The little slave's eyes closed in relief as she nodded. "Good girl. There are things I want to keep you around for." Tara smirked, then suddenly licked the end of Epona's nose.

Epona squirmed. "That tickles," she protested.

"No-o-o." The warrior's voice dropped from severity to a teasing purr. "But I bet this does." And her fingers dropped to dig into the little slave's sides. Epona gave a squeal of helpless laughter and convulsed, trying to dislodge the tormenting hands. Tara chuckled and pursued her attack with relentless efficiency. The slave squirmed and struggled; finally, she was reduced to begging for mercy in between gasps and giggles. Only then did Tara stop. The warrior dropped a kiss on the top of the curly head, her former anger apparently forgotten.

Still panting for breath, Epona clung to Tara as she recovered. "Why do you ido/i that?"

"Because it's fun." Tara laughed low, and lowered her eyes to the floor. Epona followed her gaze to find Eirian sitting there watching them. The warrior shifted and wrapped one long arm around the slave's boyish form. "Hey, priestess. If I sent you downstairs for some food, would you try to run off?"

The captive's colorless eyes met Tara's, and then lowered to meet Epona's. For a moment, it looked like she hadn't understood the question. Then Eirian looked down at her chained arms. "Goddess told me come," she said quietly. "She's not said leave."

Tara smirked. "In that case, you can go get our breakfast," she said. She spoke a few phrases in Gael, of which Epona caught only words meaning 'go,' 'bread' and 'apple.' The blond girl rose to her feet and left the room without comment. Epona started to get up, but was tugged back down just as quickly. "And just where do you think you're going?" Tara asked mildly.

The little slave peered at her uncertainly. "Um…to help get breakfast, ma'am?"

"Nope. Let the Celt make herself useful. If I have to haul her along with us, she might as well do something constructive." Tara took Epona's head between her hands, her dark eyes taking on a sultry gleam. The last of the slave's fear faded under that gaze. "Something like getting the food so I can ravish you in peace, hm?"

Their bodies were both bare, and Epona felt a warm tingling wash over the places where their skin was in contact. She shivered and looked at her owner through her lashes. As much as she'd begun to enjoy Tara's attentions, she still felt shy about admitting it. A timid smile curved her lips. "If you like, ma'am."

"Oh, I like." Tara's powerful hands drew the slave's head down to kiss her. Epona's slim fingers clung to the warrior's arms as she drowned in the sensations. She was gasping for air when Tara finally broke the kiss. A low chuckle rumbled through the warrior's chest, like a deep growl, and Epona felt the woman's hands slip down to caress her back – then lower, as a palm slowly drew across the back of her thigh, as the other slid over her hip. The slave girl groaned as fire erupted deep in her belly. "I like a lot." Tara's breath was hot on the side of Epona's neck, and she whimpered as the warrior's sharp teeth nibbled around the shell of her ear.

It was always like this – intense, overwhelming. Irresistible.

As powerless as a child, the slave gave herself up to Tara's conquering touch. The woman knew her – knew every sensitive spot, every weakness, and exactly how to exploit them. Epona felt the pressure building and building, and she begged for release, clutching at the woman's powerful body and pressing every inch of her skin that she could against her lover's. The intensity grew. Epona thrust her face hard into Tara's shoulder – another deep chuckle rippled through the muscular body beneath hers – and finally the warrior's skilful touch brought her to the brink and over. Epona's rigid body slowly relaxed as the stroking fingers teased the last few shudders of pleasure from her.

There was silence for a while. Epona breathed deeply, her eyes half closed, and listened to the steady beating of Tara's heart beneath her ear. Her muscles felt like water. If Tara hadn't been holding her, Epona had no doubt that she would have spilled out onto the floor in a helpless jumble of arms and legs. She moved her right hand slowly, stroking her fingers over the warrior's sleekly muscled flank. "Was that what a ravish is, ma'am?" she whispered. "If it was, I think I like it."

Tara only laughed.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Something had changed. It wasn't just because they'd spent two long, lazy days lounging in bed and partaking of good, hot food before leaving, either.

Epona glanced up as Tara paced away from the campfire - her body moved sinuously, like a stalking jungle cat's. The warrior stopped at the outer edge of the ring of light cast by the flames, her back to the slave. Her fiery head swept slowly from left to right as her dark eyes searched the underbrush around them.

It was cold, Epona thought, watching her breath rise up in a puff of white vapor. She drew her cloak more tightly around her skinny shoulders and bent back over her work. A small coat of leather armor lay across her knees; she was wiping its surface clean with a rag. Eirian knelt across from her, carefully stirring a pot that was beginning to send up clouds of appetizing steam.

Footsteps crunched on the frosty ground, and Tara crouched down beside Epona, close enough that the slave could feel her body heat. She peered down at the gambeson in Epona's lap. "Good work," she said gruffly. "Let me know when you're done with that, runt, and I'll teach you how to sharpen your little knife properly. Always take good care of your gear, and it'll take care of you." Epona looked shyly up at her. The warrior gave her a grin, roughly tousled her curls, and moved back to resume her restless patrol.

Yeah. Something had definitely changed.

What that something was, exactly, Epona wasn't sure. All she knew was that she hadn't been imagining it. Tara was being gentler with her, and treating her…well, certainly not as an equal, per se, but much less like a slave. She smiled a bit as she continued to clean the glossy surface of the leather. It was brand new, Tara having bought it for her only yesterday, in Cardiff. It was cut in the Romusi style, unlike the Argonian gambeson Epona had worn before the ill-fated battle where she'd been wounded. The slave paused to run her finger admiringly down a well-sewn seam. She still felt pretty silly wearing it, but the Gael had told her she'd get used to it. iAnd I guess Tara would know,/i Epona thought. "I bet she's been wearing armor longer than I've been alive.

I wonder how old she is, anyway?/i The little slave's brow creased as she worked. iShe's always saying things about her bones aching and her being too old to do things as well as she used to, but…I don't think she's as old as all that. She hasn't got gray hair at all, and the only wrinkles she's got are those tiny ones at the corners of her eyes. Hm./i Epona searched her memory. iI think she said she'd been in Argonia for fifteen years or so, and she was about fifteen when she left Gael. I bet Tara isn't much over thirty. That's not so old…Marcella was twenty-four./i The thought sent a pang through her. The little slave pressed her lips together and worked stolidly, trying not to think for a while.

Tara appeared as Epona set aside her rag. "Let's see it." Silently, the slave gave up the armor, and the warrior examined it. "Good," she said, with a curt nod. "Now, hand over your pigsticker, little mouse." Epona looked at her in confusion for a moment before she realized that Tara meant her knife. Then she quickly drew it from its sheath. Before she could do anything else, a hand fell heavily on her wrist, stopping the motion. Epona's breath caught. She slowly raised wide green eyes to meet Tara's. The warrior looked at her gravely. "If you're passing a bladed weapon to someone, you always pass it hilt first," she said. "Never point a blade at anyone unless you're about to stick them. Understand?"

"Oh," Epona whispered as her wrist was released. She sheepishly turned the dagger and presented the handle to her owner. "I'm sorry. Is this better, ma'am?"

"That's how you do it." Tara took the dagger. It was a short, double-edged weapon, with a blade about six inches long. Despite its small size, it was made of good steel, and its handle was finely crafted out of sturdy, carved bone. The warrior picked up a stone and held it up so Epona could see what she was doing. "You hold the blade at this angle to the stone," she said, "and you draw it from hilt to tip. The angle's important. Too far this way, and you blunt your edge – too far this way, and you make it too thin, so it'll nick and break."

The smaller girl watched closely. She wanted to please Tara in this, as in everything else. "Okay." Her eyes followed Tara's hands as the warrior demonstrated a few more times. "I think I've got it, ma'am. Can I try it?"

"Help yourself." The redhead surrendered both stone and knife, and watched as the slave girl attempted to copy her. With only a couple of corrections, Epona learned the technique. "Good," Tara said approvingly. "You've got it! Well done." The little slave blushed and smiled. "Now, a couple of things. First – don't use that thing for cooking, you got that?"

That got a sheepish look from Epona, who realized that she might have done just that if she hadn't thought about it. "Oh, right. That would ruin the edge, huh?"

"Yep. Wear it down faster, too." Tara smirked. "And, two – you never, ever sheath that thing dirty. Whenever your weapon's blooded, you always clean the steel before you put it away. That's very important."

Epona fell silent, gazing down at the bright little blade in her hands. She wondered what it would be like to actually cut someone with it. She wondered, too, if she would ever have to find out. Traveling with Tara did seem to be kind of dangerous, and she supposed she might have to defend herself at some point. iCould I really do it?/i Her eye traveled up to the dagger's sharp point. iCould I really hurt someone with this…maybe even kill them?/i The memory of being sprawled in the dirt and gore of battle with her belly cut open flooded back to her. Epona shivered and closed her eyes. Her stomach hurt.

When she finally looked up again, she found Tara watching her. The warrior's expression was indecipherable, but Epona thought the brown eyes looked almost gentle. "Well, enough battle lessons for tonight, I think," Tara said quietly. "It smells like Blondie's got that stew about finished. Put away your bit of steel, and let's eat something. Sound like a good idea, squirt?"

"Yeah," Epona said softly. She slipped her blade into its sheath on her thigh. The three of them huddled around the fire then, sharing bowls of savory stew and chunks of bread. Epona ate quietly, and let the warm food and the savage beauty of the stars overhead soothe away the nagging ache in her belly.


	60. Chapter 60

A sharp cry shattered the silence of the night.

Tara bolted to her feet, every sense tingling as adrenaline surged through her veins. The air was crisp and cold; her breath misted before her as her sharp eyes flicked around the small camp. The trees sat implacably, outlined against the darkness by the red-golden light of their fire. She could see no threat. Then, as her racing heartbeat slowed, she realized that the voice had been Epona's. Frowning, Tara lowered her gaze to the two forms huddled by the campfire.

Eirian lay across the flames from Tara. Her scruffy blonde bangs hung low, obscuring her eyes. Her mouth was soft in sleep. Tara could see her shackled wrists tucked up against her chest, a lumpy outline beneath the thick woolen blanket that shielded her from the cold. Epona was curled up nearby – the rolled-up cloaks that were their pillows were nearly touching. Her growing mop of black curls spilled out over the arm that was tucked beneath her head. As Tara watched, the little slave squirmed in her sleep and uttered another sobbing cry. Her slender body twitched as if she were wrestling with an unseen enemy.

The warrior stood doubtfully for a moment, considering. Then Epona's arms came up to cover her head. "Tara! No…no…" The muffled words ended in another deep sob, and the slave's body curled into a fetal position.

Tara made a face. iWell. Guess I'll have to do something about this./i She quickly knelt down at her slave's side, swirling her cloak as she did so that it settled neatly around her body. iKid's probably dreaming I'm kicking the crap out of her. Wonder if she'll sock me in the mouth before she wakes up properly?/i Her lips curved into a wry smirk as she laid a hand on Epona's twitching shoulder. "Hey." The smaller girl flinched and whimpered pitifully. "Hey," Tara said again, louder this time. She shook Epona lightly. "Wake up, runt, before you flail around and whack someone in the head."

Green eyes popped open to stare up at her in terror and bewilderment. Tara felt small hands clutch convulsively at her arms. "T…Tar…"

"Take it easy." The warrior's voice dropped to a rumbling growl that was meant to be reassuring. "You're dreaming. Breathe." Epona drew a few obedient, shuddering breaths. Some of the anguished tension in the slender body eased, but her face was still drawn – there was a haunted look in her eyes. Tara reached out to brush her knuckles across the slave's cheek. "Must've been a hell of a dream," she said gruffly. "Was I kicking your ass in it?"

"N-no." Tears were still streaming down Epona's face. She looked so pitifully frightened that Tara sighed and drew her up into her arms. The small form shivered against her, and Epona's head rested on her shoulder. "We were b-back on the ship," the slave stuttered. "During the storm." Pause. "You went overboard."

The redhead arched her brows. "Would've thought that would be a good dream for you."

Epona looked up at her as if she'd gone insane. "What would be good about that?"

"Never mind." Tara sorted through the curls that lay against her breast, idly enjoying their soft texture. "It was just a dream, squirt. That storm was over a long time ago. We both lived through it. No point in freaking out about it now."

"I know." The slave pushed her small fist beneath Tara's breastplate and clutched a handful of her mail shirt, as if trying to anchor herself to reality. "D-didn't do it on purpose."

"You need to go back to sleep," the warrior said.

Troubled green eyes peered up at her. "I don't think I can, ma'am," came the soft reply.

iIf this was anyone other than Epona…/i The warrior's lips quirked. She knew quite well she'd have lost her patience with anybody else. But, since it was Epona…she settled the little slave more comfortably in her arms, so that the girl was resting against the softer leather on her arm rather than against her mailed torso. "Tell you what," she said gruffly. "I'll tell you a story if you'll go to sleep after."

"Really?" A gleam of curiosity appeared in Epona's eye. Tara felt the body in her arms relax just a bit. "Will it be a Raven story?"

"I don't know any others. I ain't no damned bard." Tara scowled down at the girl. Epona gave her a timid smile and settled down to listen. The warrior glanced sharply over at her blonde prisoner, but Eirian hadn't so much as twitched. Tara took a deep breath. "Okay. So one day Raven and Matty were together, begging near the market."

"How old were they?" Epona wanted to know.

"Raven was nine, so Matty would've been seven or eight." The warrior paused to collect her thoughts. "Okay, so they were begging in the market. And it was a pretty normal day, really. They'd managed to swipe a bun to eat that morning, so they were feeling pretty good, and they already had a couple coins toward their dinner. You know, a decent day – nothing out of the ordinary."

"Where'd they eat dinner?"

The question derailed Tara's thoughts again. She scowled. "They'd buy it at this little inn place. Now be quiet and let me tell the damn story, squirt." The slave fell silent. "Anyway, so while they were sitting there, along came a bigger boy. He was probably three or four years older than Raven. He made like he was going to take the money they'd got, but Raven was too quick – she snatched it out from under him." Tara scratched her nose. "Well, that really pissed him off. He told her to hand the coins over, or she'd be sorry."

Epona's eyes grew round as she evidently pictured the scene. "Oo," she whispered. "What happened?"

The warrior's eyes twinkled a bit. "Raven told him to go jump in a lake," she said. "She figured he'd try to sock her or something, but she wasn't too worried, because she could run pretty fast, and she could use her fists pretty well in a pinch. But the guy didn't try to grab her or hit her or anything. Instead he stepped back and pointed at her and started yelling, 'Thief! Thief!'"

The little slave gasped in horror. "No!"

"Yep." Tara nodded solemnly. "Matty was scared. She pulled on Raven's arm and wanted to leave the money and run. But Raven was young and stupid and pissed off, so she got up in the boy's face and started yelling right back at him." The warrior shook her head, remembering. "They drew a crowd pretty quick. A merchant recognized Raven as one of the local urchins who he suspected of stealing from him, so that crowd got ugly pretty fast. Soldiers came, and there was a lot of shouting about having Raven and Matty whipped or thrown in prison."

Epona covered her mouth with her hands. "Oh no!" she said. "What did you do?" She hesitated then, dismayed, as Tara raised a brow at her. "Um…I mean, what did Raven do?"

The redhead tweaked Epona's nose. "You little smartass." The slave fidgeted, but said nothing. "Where was I? – Oh, right, the mob." Tara glanced over at the prisoner. Eirian still lay quietly, her breathing deep and even. Reassured, the warrior turned back to the girl in her arms. "So anyway, things looked pretty bad. But then, just when it looked like the girls were really going to get whipped, a loud voice broke through all the yelling and complaining. The crowd kind of parted, and Raven saw someone walking through it."

The smaller girl's fingers curled over Tara's arm. "Who was it?" she asked.

"I don't know," Tara said simply. "The person was tall and strong and dressed in armor, but it wasn't like any soldier Raven had seen before then. You see, all the soldiers she'd seen before had been men – but this one was a woman." Epona nodded thoughtfully, her moss-green eyes still bright with interest. "So the woman stood there, holding this huge battleaxe in her hands. She was as tall as the tallest soldier there, and her arms were bare, so you could see that she had strong muscles. Everyone got really quiet. She stood there and looked the crowd over, and then she looked the two little girls over. She had dark gray eyes that looked kind of dangerous, like a wolf's, or a hawk's."

The slave nodded again. "I've seen eyes like that before."

"Oh yeah?" Tara looked at her mildly. Epona blushed, and the warrior smothered a grin. "Anyhow, this warrior woman looked at everyone, and then she looked at the men who were holding Matty and Raven, and she told them to let them go." Tara shifted her smaller lover to rest more comfortably in her lap. "At first, the soldiers tried to tell her to get lost. But then she beat the tar out of two of them, so they backed off."

"In front of the kids?" Epona looked horrified.

"Heh. Yeah. Raven loved it." Tara couldn't quite help grinning. "So they let them go, and the crowd all took off pretty quick after that. Matty was kind of scared of the warrior woman, but Raven just stood and looked at her. The warrior just shoved her axe into her belt and looked back at her. And you know what she said?"

"No. What?" the curly-haired girl wanted to know.

"She said, 'You've got some guts, kid. Maybe you'll have your own axe someday.'" Tara let her chin rest on the top of Epona's head. "And that was all she said. The warrior just kind of waved at them, and turned and walked away. Raven never saw her again." There was a pause. "And you know the moral of that story?"

"Sure," Epona said. "That sometimes a hero can make everything all right."

Tara snorted. "No. What kind of moral is that? You just want to sit around your whole life hoping maybe someone'll come along and save you, when you could be doing something for yourself?"

The slave flinched a bit – Tara felt it. "Okay," the slender girl said softly. "What did Raven learn, then?"

"Easy. Whoever's strongest gets the prize." The warrior leaned back a bit so that she could see the girl's face. Epona's brow had a little wrinkle in it. Tara bent her head and playfully nibbled at it, making the slave squirm. "That boy would've won, because he was stronger than Raven and Matty – the crowd could've beaten him, because they were stronger than he was. But that woman beat all of them, because she was stronger than the lot of 'em put together." Tara leaned her cheek against the curly head. "That's when Raven first really understood that she had to become the strongest, because that's the only way she'd ever get to have and keep what she wanted."

There was silence for a while. "But she let Raven keep it," Epona said at last.

Tara frowned and looked down at her, taken aback. "What?"

"She let Raven keep it," Epona said again. "The warrior, I mean. She didn't take the prize for herself, right, ma'am? She let Raven and Matty keep the money. And she didn't even have to get involved in the first place, right? She could've just walked by and not bothered."

"So?" Tara scowled.

"So maybe there's other lessons in this Raven story, too," the little slave murmured. "Something like, when you're the strongest, you have a chance to make things better for people who aren't as strong – who could never be so strong. Maybe even a responsibility."

The warrior just sat there in mingled annoyance and confusion for a moment or two. She knew this had to be nonsense, but for some reason she couldn't quite see how to refute it. "That's…ridiculous," she growled. "When you've got the power, you can make your own decisions."

"Of course you do, ma'am," Epona agreed. "But don't you also have the opportunity to do a lot of good?"

The vague irritation turned into something dangerously close to anger. Tara glared down at the little slave, who quickly looked down and fell silent. "Serve me right for telling tales to a damn bard," the warrior muttered. There was a pause – then, with an impatient sigh, Tara thrust the entire subject aside. "Well, whatever. Moral or no moral, you got your story, runt. You feeling better?"

Epona's nervous green eyes lifted, peering at Tara through a fringe of mussed, dark curls. "Yes, ma'am," she said humbly. "Thank you for the story. It was really sweet."

"Hmph." Tara didn't know if she appreciated it being called 'sweet,' but she supposed she appreciated the sentiment. She drew her fingers through Epona's tousled hair, gently pulling the strands into some semblance of order. "Ready to go back to sleep, then?"

"Yes, ma'am." The slave gave her owner a shy smile. Tara gave her one last kiss on the top of her head, and then released her with a pat on the bottom. Epona crawled back under her blanket and curled up there. The warrior ran a hand absently over the blanket's surface, smoothing it over Epona's back. Then she got up and went back to the nook where she'd been keeping watch earlier.

She remembered thinking later how strange it was that the little glade seemed so empty without the sound of Epona's soft voice.


	61. Chapter 61

Epona wrapped her cloak firmly around her shoulders with a shiver. She was enjoying the leisurely travel they were indulging in, but it was much colder here in Britannia than anything she'd ever encountered in Argonia, and she couldn't seem to get used to that. She inched closer to the fire and tucked her cold fingers under her arms. Eirian, who was laboriously breaking up bits of dried meat and vegetable into the water in their cookpot, cast her a comforting smile.

The redheaded woman turned toward them. "I'm tired of boiled jerky soup," she said peevishly. "I want something fresher." Both girls watched as the warrior fished her javelin out of their small pile of gear. Tara looked at Epona and smiled grimly. "I'm going to find something tasty to kill," she said. "I'll be back before midnight. You be ready to cook up whatever I catch, got me?"

"Okay," the slave said softly. She watched as the warrior turned away and stalked off into the woods. She couldn't help admiring the woman's smooth, powerful gait. She'd gotten a new cloak in Cardiff – a dark gray one, lined with wolf fur. There was something incredibly primal about her in it. iFeral./i Epona watched in fascination until her owner disappear amongst the trees. Then she sighed and went back to trying to warm herself up.

Eirian's brow wrinkled as she looked at the place where Tara had vanished, and then back at Epona. "I should stop doing soup?" she asked hesitantly.

"No." The little slave smiled at her. "We two can eat it. Who knows how long it'll take Tara to hunt?" Eirian chewed her lip, and Epona shrugged. "Besides, you started it already. We can't just waste the food."

"Yes. Is true." The Celt opened the pouch that contained the few cooking herbs they'd picked up in the town. She sniffed the packets experimentally, chose two, and sprinkled some of their contents into the lightly-steaming water. Epona watched curiously. The herbs here were different than the ones she'd worked with in Argonia. She'd been watching what Eirian did, and was adding a number of new flavors to her own repertoire. iHeh. I wonder what Daddy would think of me sitting in the woods in Britannia, learning how to cook like them?/i Epona's lips curved. Her father had been a staunch nationalist. If he'd had his way, she doubted if she'd ever have seen anything outside of Argonia's borders. She'd have been married off to some third-rate nobleman or town reeve or something, to strengthen her family's political or financial status.

She still missed her father, though.

Epona's shivering grew more violent. Her eyes lifted to the branch-obscured sky. Now that the sun was going down, the temperature was dropping steadily, and it wasn't helping that she wasn't moving around anymore. She considered getting up to exercise a bit, but she was very tired, and her body grumpily resisted any thoughts of leaving its rest. iGuess I'll have to try something else./i She reached over to her bedroll, found her blanket, and wrapped it around herself. It helped a little.

After a time, Eirian pulled the cookpot off the flames and sniffed its contents. "Is done," she pronounced. Her pale gray eyes found Epona's. "You drink," she said kindly. "Is hot, make you not so cold."

The little slave smiled weakly. "Yeah. That'll be nice." She accepted the bowl of soup that Eirian handed her.

The broth was thin, but it tasted good, and it was deliciously hot. Epona sipped and sighed blissfully. This earned a frank grin from Eirian. "You like?" The curly-headed girl nodded. "Is good." The Celt sipped from her own bowl and smiled. "Is too cold for Argonian here," she said. "Is hot there, yes?"

"Warmer than here, yeah," Epona agreed. "Plus I never went outside much before I met Tara. I'd spend evenings like this in front of the fire with my sister, reading stories." She took a large mouthful of the soup, wincing as it burned her mouth a little. It was worth it, though – she felt the warmth of it pooling in her belly, penetrating her chilled bones. The two of them ate quietly until the cookpot was empty. Then Epona stirred from her spot and hunted through their gear until she found a piece of travel bread. She set this aside for when Tara returned. The warrior would probably be hungry by then. With this done, the little slave resumed her place by the fire.

Full darkness fell, and the temperature fell with it. In the ring of flickering golden light, Epona could see that the blades of grass were kissed with silver frost. She hugged the ends of her blanket to her chest. The warmth provided by the soup was gone, and she was shivering again. Her muscles ached from all the walking they'd been doing for the last ten days. She was bone-tired. Epona considered going to bed, but then abandoned the idea, realizing that it would be much colder on her bedroll than here by the fire. She wished that Tara would come back and hug her and make her feel better. Misery fell over her like a damp cloak. She wanted to cry, but she clenched her jaw against it, determined to brave it out like a soldier.

Like Tara.

Eirian peered at her from the other side of the cheerful blaze. "You sick?" she asked softly, her pale eyes full of concern.

Epona considered. Although she was chilled and achey, she didn't really feel unhealthy. "No," she sighed. "I'm sorry, Eirian. I'm just tired, and I'm so cold." Then, pitifully, "I can't get warm." Epona shut her lips tightly on the sob that wanted to burst out.

Understanding and compassion flooded Eirian's face. "Ah. I help." She got up and moved around the campfire to crouch beside the slave. "Open," she said, tugging on the blanket. Mystified, Epona nonetheless released her grip on the gray cloth. Eirian took it and sat down beside her. Then she huddled closer and began to wrap the blanket around the both of them. Her chained hands fumbled with the task; Epona helped to tuck in the ends of the blanket.

"…Oh." What had been meant as a sound of surprise came out as something like a sigh of relief as Epona felt the warmth of the younger girl's body envelop her. "Oh, that's so much better!" She smiled shyly and looked up at Eirian through her lashes. "I don't know why I didn't think of that. You're so clever sometimes."

The Celt laughed. "Is not so much smart," she said. "Is what we do in temple when night is too cold. All sleep close. Is warmer."

"So much warmer!" Epona smiled blissfully and laid her head on Eirian's shoulder as her shivering finally abated. "Thank you so much, Eirian. I feel a lot better now."

Pale gray eyes smiled in response and blinked drowsily at the fire. "You tired?" Eirian asked hopefully. "I tired. Sleep now?"

"Yeah." Epona hugged her happily. "I'm really sleepy, too. All the work's done. We can rest until Tara gets back." The two of them tugged their sleeping mats together near the fire. Then they huddled together and covered themselves with the blankets, making a warm nest. It felt good. Epona laid her head on her bundled-up cloak and gave her friend one last, sleepy smile. "G'night," she said. "Wake me up when Tara gets back, if you wake up first, okay?"

Eirian, her blond head already buried in her own makeshift pillow, nodded. "Sleep good," she murmured. Epona took one last look around the campsite, making sure that everything was in order. Then she closed her eyes. Consciousness faded.

She woke up in sudden, startled confusion. The blankets had been torn off her body, and something like a roar had ripped through the air. Epona heard Eirian give a cry of fear, or perhaps pain. Before she could gather her thoughts, something seized her by the front of her gambeson, and she was wrenched upward to dangle in mid-air! The little slave squalled in protest and squirmed. A snarling face swam into focus above hers. It was Tara, Epona suddenly realized, her confusion melting into ice-cold terror at the look on the woman's face. "M-ma'am!" she stammered, utterly bewildered. "What…why…?"

The warrior's only response was to give another inarticulate roar of rage. Epona looked into her eyes for an instant, and her breath caught at the fury and animal pain she saw there. Then Tara flung her away. Epona fell hard. Stunned, she stared up at her owner's twitching face. For a moment only, the redhead seemed frozen. Then she did something that made Epona's eyes widen with horror.

She drew her sword.

For a second, the little slave saw her life flash before her eyes. But then those blazing eyes moved, and Tara's body began to turn. Away from the frightened, bewildered little slave. Toward the sprawled form of the Celt, who still lay where she had been tossed, her chained arms thrown protectively over her blond head.

Epona didn't even have time for conscious thought. One moment, she was lying there on the frost-covered ground – the next, she found herself flinging her own body over Eirian's, putting herself between the cowering prisoner and the enraged warrior. i"No!"/i Epona screamed, screwing her eyes shut against the terrifying sight of Tara's raised blade. "Don't. Don't, please!"

There was a beat of silence. Then the world erupted into chaos! Epona felt a rush of air as something whistled over her head, and then a splintering crack as that something struck the tree she was lying under. She heard another of those terrifying snarls as it happened again, and again. She could feel things hitting her body, but it didn't hurt. She shuddered, too afraid to open her eyes, and clung silently to Eirian's quivering body. Over and over, she heard those heavy thuds, and felt bits of things rain down on her. And then, finally, it stopped.

Trembling, Epona finally dared to look up. She almost regretted it. Tara stood over the two of them, clutching the hilt of her sword with both hands, her teeth still bared in a snarl. Her muscles twitched visibly, and her knuckles were white. Epona could see a bit of bark stuck to the battered blade. She looked up at the tree, saw the countless gashes in its trunk, and swallowed hard. Her eyes moved slowly back to the warrior.

Without a word, Tara slapped the steel back into its sheath. Her expression slowly cooled into a stony mask. Epona flinched as the powerful fingers caught her by her collar. She was dragged up and over to the fire. There she was released. Epona's legs gave way, and she dropped down onto her knees. "P-please," she whispered, quivering with terror. "Please, ma'am, what did I do? I…whatever it is, I'm sorry."

Tara's expression didn't change. There was silence for a moment. Her voice, when she spoke, was cold and even. "Just exactly how stupid do you think I am?"

Epona blinked up at her, honestly bewildered. "Stupid?" she echoed, racking her brain for anything she might possibly have done. "I…I don't know…" She flinched as Tara's hands clenched into fists. "Please," she whimpered, "I don't know what you mean, ma'am."

"You don't know what I mean." Tara's sarcasm was biting. "I come back here to find you and that blond bitch in bed together, and you don't know what I mean?"

Epona's mouth fell open in utter shock. "B-but…"

The warrior snorted, her face twisting in contempt. "Shut up." She lifted a finger to jab into Epona's chest. "You. Stay. Right. Here. Understand?" Still stunned, the little slave bobbed her head.

Without another word, Tara turned on the Celt. Eirian gave a soft cry as she was yanked to her feet by her upper arm. The warrior strode away from the campfire, dragging her hapless prisoner with her. The little slave stared after them long after they were out of sight, until at last even the sounds of their passing faded, and she was alone in a night turned suddenly harsh and very, very cold indeed.


	62. Chapter 62

The half-frozen grass crunched under Tara's boots as she plowed through the woods, intent on only one thing – getting far enough away from the campsite to act on the murderous urges that were practically strangling her with their intensity. She was so furious that she could hardly see. That fury was mixed with an agony so deep that she was torn between wanting to kill and wanting to collapse to her knees in tears. She wondered if she wouldn't wind up doing both. But as crazed as she was, she still couldn't quite bring herself to punish her prisoner within earshot of Epona.

Eirian was stumbling along in her wake, her arm still trapped in the warrior's powerful grip. She hadn't uttered a sound since Tara had first attacked, other than a couple of pained cries. That suited the Gael just fine. Tara's lips tightened. _Just a bit farther. Then I'll gut her and leave her to bleed out by herself, the damned slut._ The vision of those blond and dark heads nestled so close together rose up again before Tara's eyes. The warrior ground her teeth. _Little bitch whore! I'll make her scream for this. Damn it, I'll take it out of her hide first!_

At last, they reached a place where the trees were more spread out. Tara's dark gaze swept the area. It alighted on a gnarled oak; one of the branches had broken off about eight feet from the ground, leaving a short knob. Tara dragged her prisoner to it without further ceremony. Eirian fought a bit as she was lifted up, but it did her no good. The warrior coldly hooked the chain that held the girl's wrists over the broken bit of branch and let go. The priestess dangled helplessly against the trunk of the tree. With her captive secured, Tara hunted around for a sapling. One presented itself; she tore a flexible switch off it with her bare hands, and turned on her victim.

The Celt gave a faint gasp as Tara's fingers closed on her collar. One sharp yank, and the fabric tore – Tara gave another vicious pull, and Eirian's tunic fell to the ground in rags. The redhead reached for the buckle of the captive's belt, her fingers shaking with impatience.

"Warrior." Eirian's voice quivered as she formed the words in Tara's mother tongue. "I know how it looked, but it wasn't like that. I would never dishonor…"

"Shut up." The redhead dealt her prisoner a vicious cut with her cane. The young priestess uttered a sharp cry, and then another as her belt came loose. Tara jerked Eirian's boots and leggings free and flung them aside. "I'm through with listening to you. I should have known that anything the Morrigan sent me would be poison – you scheming little slut witch!"

Eirian's pale body was as taut as a bowstring, but she didn't squirm. Tara's eyes narrowed as they traced the wings of the tattooed bird that stood out in stark relief against the white skin. "Warrior," Eirian said again, her voice low. "Please, listen. My goddess favors you, and I know what Epona means to you. I'd never try to come between you. She was cold…she's not used to winters here. We were just huddling to keep warm."

"Of course you were." Tara's voice was full of acrid pleasantry. "And I bet her lips were cold, too, so you warmed them up with yours, right? Just to be neighborly." She saw Eirian take a breath to answer, and cut her off with another blow of her switch. "Enough of your lies," she snapped. "The only thing I want to hear out of you right now is a lot of screaming and pleading, you hear me? When I'm done with you, you're going to wish I'd killed you!" And Tara gave her anger free rein.

Whipping the priestess was different from punishing Epona. Where the little slave squealed and sobbed, Eirian took her tongue between her teeth and tried to choke down her cries. Seeing this, Tara struck with greater force, until at last the prisoner's bravado gave way, and she began to give voice to her pain. Tara laughed. "You feel that?" She laid a hard stroke across Eirian's bloodied shoulders, exulting in the scream that followed. "I'll teach you to dare put your hands on her. She's mine, you hear me? _Mine!"_ A series of four vicious blows punctuated the words. The helpless girl writhed. "What's the matter, priestess? Did you think your goddess could protect you from me, huh?" _Crack!_ The flexible cane whipped low, leaving a vivid, blue-black welt across the backs of Eirian's legs.

Jerking in agony, the captive managed to twist herself around with her back to the tree. Tara simply changed her target to the belly and thighs now exposed to her. Eirian's cries jumped an octave. The warrior struck savagely, tears stinging her own eyes. _I'll make you hurt, priestess. I'll make you pay!_ Despite the cold, sweat beaded on her forehead as her arm performed. The Celt's struggles were weakening now, and the volume of her screams was dropping. Pitiless, Tara redoubled the force of her strokes until Eirian could only whimper and wriggle feebly.

Then running footsteps sounded behind her. Tara paused in the act of raising the switch yet again, but she didn't have time to turn around before slender hands wrapped around her arm and held tight. "Stop it!" The warrior looked down in surprise to find Epona's furious little face glowering up at her. "Stop it," the slave cried again, tears spilling down her cheeks. "Stop hurting her!"

Astonished, Tara stood frozen. If Epona had suddenly sprouted wings and started fluttering around and singing like a canary, it could hardly have bewildered her more than this. The warrior had seen her slave do and say many things, but she'd never seen those soft green eyes snapping with outrage like they were right now. "Buh…"

Epona clutched at the front of Tara's mail shirt. "She didn't do anything wrong," she sobbed angrily. "We weren't doing anything, ma'am! Eirian was just trying to keep me from freezing to death. Do you really think I'm like that? Do you think I'm just some kind of a whore? You think I'm just waiting for you to leave so I can lie with anything that moves?"

The warrior finally managed to gather some of her scattered wits. She lowered the rod slowly. "No," she muttered, feeling her face grow unaccountably warm. "If I did, I'd be punishing _you,_ runt."

"You shouldn't be punishing anyone!" Epona cried, her tears flowing faster. "Nothing happened. Nothing ever will!" A sob choked her for a moment. "You think I don't know I belong to you? You think I don't know that you'll break my neck like a twig if I ever even look at anyone else? Nothing happened. But you never even ask, do you? You just barge in and start hurting people and…and…!" The grip of the slender hands loosened as Epona dissolved into tears. "Just leave her alone!" And the slave stumbled to where Eirian's half-conscious body hung. Epona put her back to her friend and faced her owner, her tearstained little face scrunched up in mingled fear and defiance.

The warrior thought back to the scene she'd walked in on – the two girls had just been sleeping side-by-side. They hadn't been in each other's arms. The slave was telling the truth, Tara realized numbly. Slowly, her fingers released the switch. She heard it hit the frozen earth. "Epona." Tara almost flinched at the outrage and disappointment in the little slave's face. She paused, trying to make some sense of the emotions that were swirling around inside her. One part of her wanted to punish her slave for daring to defy her like this. The other was terrified of the look in Epona's eyes – terrified that she'd never see anything but resentment and disgust in them again. There was a brief struggle – then confusion won out, and Tara swallowed hard. "Epona," she whispered again. "What…what do you want from me?"

There was silence for a while. The little slave stared at her – the only sound was the ragged breathing of the beaten Celt. Finally, Epona pointed at Eirian. "Help her. Please." Some of the anger in the moss-green eyes melted into pleading.

Tara fought with her pride. Then she coldly reached up, gripped Eirian by her wrists, and lifted her down. The prisoner was limp in her grasp. Without a word, Tara gathered her into her arms and headed back for their campsite. She heard rustling behind her as Epona gathered up the Celt's torn clothes and hurried to follow.

_What in Hades am I doing?_ The redhead's lips tightened into a thin line as she laid her burden down beside the fire. _Why am I letting my damn slave call the shots?_ But she knew, deep down, that her relationship with Epona had passed that point long ago. Somehow, Tara couldn't bear to risk losing the sweet, trusting looks the girl gave her, or the willing touch of her gentle little hands. It was far too cold out to clean Eirian's wounds with water. She fumbled in their gear, withdrew a flask of hard liquor, and doused a rag with it. In grim silence, Tara wiped the bloody cuts she'd just inflicted.

Silently, the slave knelt down by Eirian's head. Tara had laid her on her back; Epona reached out a little paw and stroked her friend's pale forehead. There was a bruise there, the warrior noted. She didn't remember striking the Celt in the face, but she supposed Eirian might have bumped her head when she'd been torn away from Epona and thrown aside. Tara couldn't meet Epona's gaze. She kept her eyes on her work. When all the open wounds on Eirian's chest and belly had been cleaned, the warrior carefully turned her onto her stomach, soaked the rag with more alcohol, and started to work on the gashes that marred the unconscious Celt's shoulders.

No one spoke. Tara finished cleaning the ugly cuts and set aside her bit of cloth. The Celt was shivering; the warrior took the clothes that Epona had brought and put Eirian's leggings and boots back on. The ripped tunic she discarded – it would only get in the way of caring for the welts on the girl's torso. Wordlessly, Tara spread a blanket over the blond captive. As she was about to turn away, Epona touched her arm. She looked up to find the little slave gazing at her intently. "Will you take off the chains, ma'am?" Epona asked. "They hurt her. And I'm sure Eirian won't be able to run away anytime soon, anyway." Tara looked at her for a moment more. Then, without a word, she released the shackles around Eirian's wrists and put them away. The Celt's arms were bloody where the cuffs had cut into her flesh. Tara cleaned those wounds, too.

There was a pause then. It was well after midnight by now – sometime around two or three in the morning, Tara thought. She looked past the fire, at the bundle she'd dropped when she'd first come back from hunting, and cleared her throat. "Look," she said. Her own voice sounded a little hoarse – she cleared her throat a second time. "Look," Tara said again, "I know it's late, but those hares I caught need to get cooked soon, or the meat'll be no good. And I kind of suck at cooking." There was a pause. Tara uneasily met Epona's gaze. "I'll take care of the Celt if you'll roast those. I cleaned 'em already." It was more of a request than an order, and the warrior felt the difference keenly.

The little slave reached down, stroked Eirian's cheek a couple of times, and nodded her curly head. "Okay." Tara watched as the girl got up and went to fetch the hares. They were very lean, as most woodland creatures were at this time of year, but they would still taste good. The warrior's dark eyes followed Epona until the rabbits were spitted and laid over the flames. Then she looked back down at Eirian.

It came as a bit of a shock to see how young the unconscious priestess looked. Now that Tara's temper had cooled, she remembered just what the Celt was. _She's really only a kid._ She didn't feel ashamed of what she'd done, exactly, but she felt some uneasy regret about it – she hadn't meant to make Epona look at her like that. _I've got to make this right again,_ Tara told herself. _But gods…how?_ It occurred to her that she'd never cared before about whether she made people angry. Much of the time, she'd even done it on purpose. She'd never before wanted to placate anyone.

But then again, she'd never been in love before, either.

Tara scowled at the thought. Then she laid her hand on Eirian's forehead. There was no fever. _Good. At least we don't have that complication yet._ She folded her arms over her chest. _Damn it, if I'd known how much trouble this stinking little oracle was going to be, I'd have just let Lucian's boys hang her. It was better when it was just me and Epona. Catch me taking pity on waifs in the woods again - !_

Silence. Epona was catching the juices dripping from the roasting meat in their cookpot. Occasionally she dipped them up with a spoon and ladled them over the hares. It smelled good; Tara was reminded that she hadn't eaten since noon that day. She glanced wistfully at the cooking meat. From there, it only required a slight change of angle for her to look at the slave. Epona seemed calm now. She was absorbed in her cooking task. Tara studied the shadowed little face, but she couldn't read the girl's expression. The warrior suddenly felt completely at sea. She didn't know what Epona was thinking, or what to say, or how to fix what was broken. Her brow wrinkled as she returned her gaze to the injured Celt.

The quiet continued. Tara hugged her knees into her chest and stared into the flames as she waited for Eirian to wake. Her thoughts wandered back to when she had first taken Epona as her slave. She sifted through the memories of their journey together, trying to find the exact moment when she'd lost control of the situation, and was dismayed when she couldn't. _Maybe I never had any control,_ Tara thought wearily. _Maybe I lost it the moment I first saw those big green eyes. I've just been fooling myself._

Something thrust itself into her lap. Tara blinked, and found Epona crouching beside her. A bowl containing some cooked rabbit and a piece of travel bread now rested on her thighs. She looked down at it stupidly, and then back at the quiet slave. "I thought you might be hungry, ma'am," Epona said calmly. "You didn't get any of the soup Eirian made for supper."

"Oh. Um…yes," Tara said awkwardly. Then, because she didn't really know what else to do, she took the bowl and began to eat. She paused in faint surprise at the first taste of the meat, recognizing the spices as local ones. _Damn, the squirt's a quick study. The Celt must've taught her._ She sighed and went on chewing. The bread was very dry. She suffered this in silence for a minute or two, and then got up and crossed over to their packs to search out a skin of wine.

There came a soft, mewling whimper from behind her. Tara straightened up and turned back toward the fire. Eirian was stirring. The warrior watched as Epona quickly dropped to her knees beside the invalid and stooped over her, one soothing hand resting on Eirian's forehead. "It's okay, Eirian," the slave said gently. "You got hurt, but I'm going to take care of you, all right?"

Even in the dim firelight, Tara could tell that the Celt was paler than usual. The girl's gray eyes peered up at Epona in confusion. "Mamai…?" she whispered.

"It's okay," the little slave said again. "You're going to be fine."

Eirian closed her eyes, shuddered a bit, and opened them again. Her gaze seemed a bit clearer now. "Epona," she murmured. Her pale face twisted into a faint grimace. "I…hurt. So much hurt…"

The slave looked pleadingly in Tara's direction as she answered. "I know. You got whipped," she said. "But I'm sure we can fix you something to make you feel a little better." There was a question in her voice. Tara sighed deeply, stooped back over her pack, and dug out her healer's kit. Epona smiled at this and gently patted Eirian's arm. "Would you like some tea?" she asked. "I can make you some."

"Is good," Eirian whispered. Then she peered down at her own arms in evident confusion. "Have no more chain?"

"No more," Epona agreed, tipping water from a skin into the cookpot and rinsing it out with it. "Tara decided you didn't need them anymore." Tara scowled at this, but said nothing. She stalked back to the fire, dropped both wineskin and kit, and plunked herself down beside her neglected bowl of food. With one hand, she took her bowl into her lap and resumed eating; with the other, she sorted through the contents of her healer's kit for the herbs she wanted. Eirian's pale eyes watched her warily.

Epona put the pot on to boil and knelt down between Tara and the wounded Celt. "Can I do anything, ma'am?" Her tone was polite, but guarded.

The warrior cast her a surly look. "I guess," she muttered. "Get a cup and pour some wine into it. I'll mix her medicine with that instead of tea. A little drunk won't hurt her any." The slave obeyed. Still one-handed, Tara began to measure the contents of two pouches into the smooth, red liquid. "There. Give her that," the redhead said shortly, and turned her full attention back on her food.

The little slave very carefully drew Eirian's white-blond head into her lap. "Here," she said, holding the cup to the girl's lips. Tara watched moodily as Eirian weakly sucked at the wine. It took a while for the Celt to drink all of the medicine. Tara popped the last of her rabbit into her mouth and chewed as Epona lowered the invalid's head again. Eirian was still in obvious pain, but the herbs Tara had used were strong; her gray eyes soon blinked and closed. Epona tucked the blanket up under her friend's chin and stayed there, on her knees, gently stroking the pale forehead.

It was now close to five or six in the morning. The sun would rise soon. Tara was tired, but she was still too upset to sleep. She kept thinking of how Epona had looked at her – of the disgust and disappointment in her face. They were still on edge with each other, too. She could see it in the way Epona didn't seem to want to look at her, and in the cool politeness of her tone when she spoke. _Hades, I feel it myself,_ Tara groaned inwardly. _What do I do? What do I say?_

She couldn't stand it anymore. Setting aside her empty bowl with a thump, Tara straightened her back and turned her gaze on her slave. "Squirt." The girl looked up. Her green eyes were inscrutable. "Come here," Tara said, patting her lap. The slave hesitated, and it looked for a moment as if she would refuse. Then she got up and crossed over to where the warrior was sitting. Silently, Epona dropped down into Tara's lap and leaned against her; her curly head nestled into its usual place against the taller woman's breastplate.

There was definitely tension thrumming through Epona's slender body. Tara settled her arms around her, but she felt the difference, and it stung. They sat together in silence for several minutes. The redhead couldn't seem to figure out what to say. At last, she took a deep breath. "Epona, I…didn't mean for you to get hurt."

The little slave peered up at her in puzzlement. "I didn't. Eirian did," she said.

"I know that," Tara growled. "But I don't give a tinker's damn if she's upset. You're the one I'm worried about."

Epona sighed and rubbed her forehead. "That's the problem."

Tara blinked. "What?"

"That's the problem," Epona repeated softly. Her eyes were still shadowed and wary. "You don't care if you hurt people. You just don't, ma'am. It doesn't seem to matter to you if they're nice people, or good people, or even if they're helpless people. You just do it because you can, just because you're angry, or you think they're in your way."

The warrior scowled. "So?"

The little slave sighed again, and slumped against Tara's chest with a look of resigned disappointment. "Never mind. I guess I just hoped…" Her voice trailed off. "Never mind."

"Hey." Tara scowled and raised Epona's chin to meet her eyes. "I care if I hurt you, all right? Quit changing the subject."

"It's the same subject, ma'am," Epona said, with a hint of exasperation. "Don't you understand? Eirian's my friend. When you hurt her, you hurt me. It's all the same thing." The warrior's lower lip protruded just a bit at this, but she jerked her head in a reluctant nod. "You just attacked," the slave whispered. "You don't trust me, and you didn't even ask me. You just…you would have killed her on the spot, wouldn't you? If I hadn't stopped you when you drew your sword."

Tara looked away. In the first flush of her anger, her instinct had been to strike. She didn't really think she would have been able to control the impulse. "I…don't know," she mumbled. "Maybe."

Tears welled up in Epona's expressive eyes. "How could you?" she whispered. "And why didn't you trust me, ma'am? What have I done to deserve that?"

The Gael hugged her silently, feeling helpless and frustrated. Epona's tears always bothered her. She didn't want the girl to be upset. She especially didn't want her to be upset with _her._ Tara drew the curly head up against her own neck. "Epona…" Her voice was husky. "I want to make this better."

"Do you?" The little slave looked up at her. Tara felt a small hand rest against her cheek, and Epona's eyes gazed searchingly into hers. "Do you really?"

Tara scowled. "Of course. Don't be stupid. Why the hell else would I say it?" she growled.

There was a pause. "I know you're a fighter," Epona said. "I know that's what you do, and you love it, and you're good at it. I don't want that to change about you…I love that you're strong and brave and dangerous. It's amazing to watch you." The warrior felt her cheeks grow warm. "But there's more to you." The slave's hand caressed the side of Tara's face. "You're so gentle and sweet with me. Well, most of the time, anyway." Epona studied her owner's face. "People tell stories about you like they tell stories about Herkules, but they always cast you as the villain. It doesn't have to be that way. Remember how you saved me in that battle? And how you helped those sailors in that storm?" Tara started to speak, but the slave cut her off. "And don't say that was just because I asked you to. Dom and Lenis said you saved Dom once, and you didn't even know me then."

"Things like that are the exception to my rule, runt," Tara said quietly.

"They don't have to be." Epona's voice was firm. "You can control it when you're angry, right? You promised you'd never hit me again, and you haven't. You wanted to kill Eirian, but you hit that tree instead." The warrior stared at her, and Epona gently brushed her cheek with her thumb. "Ma'am, I still love you, but…if things like this keep happening, I don't know how long that can last."

Tara looked at her uncertainly. "Are you still mad at me?" she asked, her voice sounding strangely childlike in her own ears.

Something in the little slave's expression softened, but she still looked grave. "Yeah, I am," Epona said. "I'll probably be upset with you for a while. You really hurt Eirian."

"I didn't mean to hurt you," Tara said again. She knew this hadn't satisfied Epona before, but she didn't know what else to say.

Epona sighed and smiled a bit. She slipped her arms around Tara's neck and kissed her cheek. "I know," she murmured. "If you really are sorry, I promise I'll try to forgive you."

Tara thought this wasn't entirely satisfactory, but at least Epona had kissed her, and the promise of future forgiveness was better than nothing. She hugged the boyish form close for a while. "I guess I have to sit up with the blond in case she takes a turn," she said eventually. "You planning on being stupid and not sleeping, too?"

"I'd rather be here for her if she wakes up," Epona agreed quietly. Her arms tightened a fraction around Tara's neck. "And her name's Eirian."

"What?" Tara's brow wrinkled.

"Her name's Eirian." Epona's eyes were gentle. "You never say her name. It's always 'the Celt' or 'Blondie' or something. Her name's Eirian, ma'am. She's a person, you know. She's a human being. She has a name."

"…Oh." The warrior shifted uncomfortably. "Yeah. I mean…I know." Silence. Then, grudgingly, "I'll try to use it if that bothers you, squirt."

"Thanks," Epona said. The two of them fell silent then, waiting in the endless stillness of the forest, and watched as the sky softened with the morning light, the color slowly returning to a monotone world.


	63. Chapter 63

It had been a long couple of days. Tara sat with her back to a tree, her arms resting on her bent knees, and rested her head against the bark. She was tired – after having stayed up all night, she had then stayed awake all day as well, intent on taking proper care of Eirian's wounds in the early stages of their healing. The air was still very cold, which worried her. It was hard to keep her patient warm out here in the open. They'd been lucky so far, but it was bound to rain soon, as it frequently did in this country. It was only a matter of time.

And that wasn't the only thing troubling her. Tara gazed moodily at the scene over to her right. Eirian was still wrapped in her blanket by the fire. Epona was sitting cross-legged with her, with the invalid's white-blond head cradled in her lap. The Celt was asleep. The little slave looked tired, too, but she made no move to leave her post; she was very gently patting the pale hair and humming some soothing, almost tuneless little song.

Tara scowled, drew her sword, and began to work on the blade with a stone. There were six or seven nicks in the edge, left there from impact with the tree. She sharpened it meticulously. Her heart wasn't really in what she was doing. iI don't like it,/i she groused. iEven if there's nothing between those two but friendship, the Celt's getting more and more of Epona's attention. I don't like it at all!/i Tara paused in her work to inspect the edge of her weapon. iBut the squirt's attached to Eirian now. I can't just get rid of her…gods, it was so much less complicated before I went and fell for that runt./i She sighed and resumed her task.

It hurt, Tara admitted to herself with a grimace. She hadn't even really realized how much she'd liked the undivided attention of her smaller companion, and it stung now to be deprived of it.

iWhat can I do?/i Her dark eyes moved from her blade to the tender little scene that was outlined in painful detail by the afternoon sun. iSince I can't get rid of that priestess, how can I get Epona to forgive me faster?/i Tara sheathed her sword and pulled her knees back up to her chest, folding her arms on top of them. Then she laid her chin on her forearms and studied the oblivious little slave. Epona was still stroking Eirian's hair and singing under her breath. iShe really is a motherly little thing,/i Tara thought, with some surprise. iGuess I should've expected that, given how gentle she is./i The warrior's eyes lowered to the stroking hand. iI guess I'll just have to take care of Epona and be careful of her until things are better again./i

With this decision made, Tara rose to her feet and crossed the distance between herself and the neatly laid out campsite. The little slave looked up at she approached. "Hey," Tara said quietly. "You look pretty tired. Why don't you let me watch the bl…er, watch Eirian? Then you can get some sleep."

The Argonian girl looked down at the blond head in her lap. "I don't want her to wake up and me not be here."

iStubborn little…/i Tara sat down beside Epona and looked at her gravely. "I'll wake you if she does," she said. "Go." The slave seemed doubtful; Tara gave her a meaningful look. "I'm not just being a bitch," she said. "Sleep heals you and helps you stay healthy. It's a lot colder here than you're used to. If you start skipping sleep on top of that, you could get sick. Haven't you mentioned that you tend to get coughs?" Epona looked up at her. The warrior reached out a hand to gently cup her cheek. "I don't want you sick out here, little mouse," she said quietly. "Let me take care of you, all right?"

The stubborn line of Epona's jaw relaxed. With a sigh, the slave let her gaze drop and nodded her head. "Okay," she murmured. Moss-green eyes lifted a moment later. "But you promise you'll wake me up if Eirian asks for me?"

Tara leaned over, roughly grasped the curly head, and pulled her close to kiss her on the brow. "I promise," she said. "I'll take care of her, squirt."

A wrinkle appeared on Epona's forehead. There was a pause. "And you promise you won't hurt her?" she whispered.

The warrior couldn't quite repress a sigh. "Do I have to?"

"Ma'am – !" Epona's black brows lowered, and her little jaw thrust forward.

Tara couldn't help chuckling at the fierceness on the younger woman's adorable face. She ducked her head and kissed Epona again, this time on her frowning mouth. "I won't lay a finger on Eirian. Cross my black old heart."

The slave's lean body relaxed against Tara's. A small hand rubbed over the wolf fur that lined the collar of the warrior's cloak. The attention eased some of the jealousy that was still niggling at the edges of Tara's mind. "Do you think Eirian will get sick like I did when I got whipped?" Epona whispered. "You know…the fever, and all that?"

"I don't know," Tara said quietly. "Everyone reacts to these things differently. Some people get really sick on ships, but you didn't – some people don't have fevers after a beating, but you did. No one knows why. You can't really predict things like that." Epona bit her lip; her little fist clenched on a handful of dark gray fur. "She seems pretty tough," Tara relented. "I started treating her wounds right away, and they don't seem to be getting infected. The Cel…erm, Eirian's got a pretty good chance of coming out of this all right, Epona." She reached up to play with the slave's dark curls. It seemed like it had been a while since Epona had relaxed enough to let her do this. "You go lie down and rest."

Epona sighed. "Okay." She untangled herself from her owner and went to her bedroll. Tara watched quietly until the little slave had settled herself under her blanket. Then she got up, crossed over to where Eirian lay, and sat down cross-legged beside her. After a moment's pause, Tara drew her sword and resumed working on the nicked blade. She felt a little better.

For a while, the only sound by the campfire was the steady rasp of steel against stone. Then, just as Tara finished working the last imperfection out of her well-maintained weapon, she heard a soft murmur. The warrior slid her blade into its sheath and looked down at Eirian. The Celt was stirring. Her eyelids fluttered, then blinked, and pale gray eyes appeared. Tara raised a brow. "You're awake," she said in Gael.

Eirian blinked at her for a moment. "Yes," she whispered. Then, after a brief hesitation, "Where's Epona?"

"Sleeping." Tara jerked her thumb in the direction of the slumbering slave. "I'd rather not have to wake her up. She hasn't slept in a while." She lifted both sandy brows at the invalid. "Unless you disagree…?"

The Celt eyed her warily. "No. Of course she needs rest." There was silence for a while. Tara hunted around for a stick, found one, and began to poke at the dying fire. She rearranged the burning logs until the flames were leaping again. This done, she poked absently at the coals. "Warrior," Eirian said softly, "I was telling you the truth. I wouldn't ever come between you and Epona."

"Yeah," Tara said gruffly. "She told me."

Silence. Tara continued to stir the fire idly with her stick. "Why are you so angry with the Morrigan, warrior?" the blond girl asked at length. The redhead looked at her coldly. Eirian winced a bit, but forged ahead. "It's obvious that you are. Why, warrior? What happened to make you so mad at her?"

The Gael regarded Eirian through narrowed eyes, considering whether or not she wanted to answer. "Nothing," she said finally, her words clipped. "Nothing happened. That's exactly the point. What the hell good did the Morrigan ever do me?" Tara tossed her stick into the fire. "I was her chosen, supposedly, according to her priestesses in my hometown. Some toothless old bat of a seer told me all about it. They did rituals and tattooed me and beat drums and wailed away. But do you think I ever saw so much as one hair on the Morrigan's head when I needed help?"

The blond girl closed her eyes. "Ah."

Tara glowered sightlessly into the coals at her feet. "I'm damned good at fighting. I take care of myself, and I don't ask anyone for help. But three times in my life I called on her, and she never did jack." She turned blazing eyes on the invalid. "Last time was a couple years ago. I got ambushed on the road by a bunch of thugs, no idea who they were. Woke up on my face in the mud, all beat up and stuck full of arrows." She saw the Celt flinch, and smiled grimly. "So there I was. I called on the goddess – nothing." Tara made a sharp gesture. "I had to drag my half-dead ass back to the road myself. Then I lay there for days. iDays,/i priestess! Some merchant had to haul me to town in a cart like a sheep carcass. Took me months to recover. So explain ithat."/i

Eirian gazed up at her for a while. "I can't," she admitted softly. "I wasn't there, and she hasn't talked to me about it. But I'll ask her, warrior."

The redhead gave a mocking smirk. "Oh? Going to sacrifice a goat, priestess?"

"No." The girl's eyes were clouded with pain, but her face was calm. "I don't need rituals. I'm her voice. The Morrigan speaks directly to me and through me, as she sees fit. If she wants to answer you, warrior, she will."

Tara regarded the girl in silence. She was struck suddenly by how very different this blond Celt was from her slave. Where Epona often seemed so much younger than her nineteen years, Eirian usually seemed much older – as if the soul of a wise old woman inhabited her seventeen-year-old body. Tara felt strangely unsettled under the gaze of those grave, pale eyes. "Well," she said, her tone gruff to hide her discomfort, "I'm not holding my breath." She reached down to touch Eirian's forehead, and found it cool to the touch. "Good. You're not feverish, anyway."

Eirian closed her eyes again. Her jaw clenched. "No," she murmured. "That's good."

There was another awkward silence. Tara watched her prisoner, noting the lines of pain around her eyes and mouth. iAnother difference between the blond and my little mouse,/i she mused. iEpona cries and clings when she's hurting. The Celt just grits her teeth and bears it, like I do./i Her lips quirked a bit. iMaybe it's a barbarian thing./i "I'd give you another dose to put you to sleep," she said out loud, "but the stuff's bad for you if you take too much. I promised the kid I wouldn't hurt you." She paused. "Guess that includes poisoning you."

The invalid looked at her. The ghost of a smile flitted over her tired face.

You had to admire her courage, really. Tara leaned back on her hands and considered the young priestess. "So, do you hate me yet?" she asked curiously.

Gray eyes blinked. "That doesn't matter," Eirian said. "My goddess told me to find you and help you. It makes no difference how I feel about you, warrior."

Tara gave a saucy, dangerous grin. "That was a neat little bit of sidestepping, Blondie. No one avoids answering a straight question like a priestess, except maybe a politician." She reached out a long arm to poke Eirian's chest. "It won't get you off the hook, though, fairy foot. No dancing away this time. Do you hate me or not?"

Eirian looked at her tiredly. "I could," she murmured. "But I see more and more that I should have expected what you are, warrior. I know the Morrigan well, after all…and you are hers."

The warrior let her head roll lazily over to look at the priestess again. "You know," she drawled, "you're damn lucky I promised the runt that I wouldn't kick your little white ass, because otherwise I'd be taking a stick to your backside for that comment." She gave Eirian another threatening smile. "Don't push your luck."

"Do you not believe it," the Celt said, "or do you just not like it, warrior?"

The Gael's reddish brows lowered over eyes that had begun to flash dangerously. "Drop it, priestess," she warned.

The pale eyes closed for a moment, then opened again. "Surely you've heard it before."

Tara bared her teeth. "Yeah," she said. "I've been accused of being either the get or the thrall of some war god or other all my life. And maybe the Morrigan had some hand in planting the seeds of battle lust in me. But I'm no one's slave, and everything I am and everything I have, I've won by my own hands. Nobody else, god or mortal, gets credit for it. I don't care how many thunderbolts get tossed at me." The warrior cast a defiant look at the implacable heavens.

Eirian gave a slow nod. "Ah. I understand."

"Do you?" Tara's brow quirked at her. "That's unusual for someone in your line of work, priestess. Shouldn't you be spouting platitudes at me? Or maybe threatening me with imminent doom for my arrogance?"

The priestess smiled faintly. "That's for mere mortals, warrior. There are probably different rules for someone like you."

The silence that followed this statement was profound. "Are you telling me to my face that I have divine blood?" Tara demanded finally. "Stop beating around the bush and say what you have to say, Eirian. The only thing that pisses me off more than that is being lied to. Are you calling me a demigod?"

"I don't know," the Celt said simply. "I think it's pretty likely, but the goddess didn't say that outright. All she said was that you were hers, and she wanted me to find you and give you whatever help you needed." She paused. "But I know the rules are different for those favored by the gods."

"I don't owe her a damn thing." Tara's eyes flashed.

Eirian seemed too tired to argue the point. She simply closed her eyes and gave a soft sigh. "As you say, warrior," she murmured.

iI'm being humored./i The redhead considered getting angry at this, but set it aside disgustedly instead. She'd promised Epona she wouldn't hurt the blond, after all, so it probably wouldn't be smart to pursue topics that tended to rile her temper. Tara reached for her healer's kit instead and rummaged through it until she found the packet she wanted. Eirian's eyes opened again as the warrior mixed the medicine in a cup of water. "Here," Tara grunted, shoving the cup at her. "Swallow that. It's not as strong as the other stuff, but it'll take some of the sting out."

The priestess took it and drank, with a look of unmistakable relief. Tara found herself another stick and began to poke at their fire again. The drugs did their work, and the invalid was soon sleeping as soundly as the little slave across the fire. Tara was left alone with the fire and her thoughts, at least for a while.


	64. Chapter 64

There were times that Tara loved being proved right. She did have an ego, after all, and she loved winning. But this, unfortunately, was not one of those times. The warrior grimaced as yet another stream of water spilled from her cloak hood and caught the bridge of her nose.

They'd started out that morning, seeking shelter. It had started out as merely cloudy at first, and the woods had been full of thick, eerie fog. The rain Tara had predicted had started around lunchtime. It was still raining steadily as the two cloaked figures trudged silently through the mist. Tara thought she could detect a thinning of the trees up ahead – she felt her low mood lift just a little. iIf that's finally the ocean up there, we've made good time. Maybe our luck's changing./i The huddled form in her arms shifted slightly; Tara looked down at the pale head that rested against her armored shoulder. "You all right?" she growled.

"Yes, warrior." Eirian's voice was very quiet. Her face was drawn, but she uttered no word of complaint, despite the pain she had to be in. Tara knew the constant motion had to be chafing the countless open wounds on the Celt's body. She watched as Eirian set her jaw and closed her eyes firmly, and felt a grudging admiration for the stubborn courage that almost rivaled her own.

The warrior's dark eyes returned to their path. The forest was definitely clearing. Now she could hear the distant roar and hiss of the sea over the constant pattering sound of the rain. "Ocean up ahead," she said, glancing back at the silent little figure that followed in her footsteps. "Keep your eyes peeled for decent shelter. We'll stop the minute we find any, got it?" Epona nodded wordlessly.

To the slave's credit, she hadn't grumbled at all about the miserable weather, or the hard work of trudging up and down the rolling hills. She looked tired, though. Tara ran a critical eye over Epona's pale face and wobbly legs. After a moment's thought, the redhead relented. "We'll stop to rest in an hour or so, shelter or not," she said quietly. "Maybe have a bite or two."

"Okay." The slave's moss-green eyes brightened and warmed at the words. Tara just grunted. "Is Eirian all right?"

"She's fine," Tara said shortly. "Let's just keep going." Silence fell again.

A minute or two later, the travelers emerged from the woods into the open. Tara's alert gaze swept the area, finding nothing out of place, before she continued. The land stretched out ahead of them for about half a mile, sloping down until it met with the band of slate gray that was the sea. To their left and right, the ground sloped upward toward the waterline – she imagined the steep cliffs that must overlook the ocean, and gave a satisfied smile. She wanted cliffs. Cliffs meant caves, and a cave – once cleaned and checked for hostile animals – meant very good shelter. She spared a moment's wistful thought for being warm and dry again, and then set the momentary weakness aside in favor of heading down toward the shore.

"It's different here," Epona said softly, when they had crossed about half the distance that separated them from the stony beach. "The ocean, I mean. Back in Romus, it was all blue and green and pretty. Here it's dark and…and unfriendly." Moss-green eyes regarded the frigid waters warily.

Tara grunted. "Lots wilder here," she agreed. "Not so fun to swim in, maybe. But I like it better." The warrior gave a faint grin. "More of a challenge to sail it."

The slave shuddered and clutched her cloak to her body. "Don't even want to think about swimming," she whispered. "Don't want to be colder or wetter." Then Epona shut her mouth tightly, as if she was ashamed of having spoken the thought.

The redhead gave her a tolerant look. "It's not the best walking weather," she allowed. "It'll be better once we've found shelter."

"I know. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to complain, ma'am." Epona lowered her curly head contritely. Tara gave her an indulgent smile.

The rocks grinded beneath their feet when they finally reached the shore. Tara turned her steps northward, following the coastline. The sea looked angry, its dark surface choppy and dotted with foam. She hefted her burden more firmly in her arms; Eirian gave a stifled moan, but made no other sound.

Their luck was better than she had expected. After less than half an hour of walking, Tara's dark eyes settled on a dark spot against the cliffs up ahead. It was a cave, as she'd hoped – far enough above the visible waterline to be safe and dry, even during high tide. Her lips curved as they approached it. "All right," she said, halting and lowering Eirian to the ground. "Epona, you stay here with the Celt. I'm going to go make sure that cave's empty. Stay put, understand?"

Innocent green eyes met hers. "How come? You think there's bandits in it, ma'am?"

Tara eyed her wryly. "I'm not so worried about two-legged enemies," she said. "Think four legs, fur and fangs. Any variety."

"Oh." Epona looked foolish. She fell silent and knelt down beside Eirian, a flush darkening her cheeks. Tara gave an amused shake of her head. Then, loosening her sword in its sheath, she moved over to the mouth of the cave.

A couple of minutes of careful searching revealed a cave empty of intruders, save a few brown field mice. The travelers lost no time in moving under the shelter and setting up camp. Soon their gear was unpacked, and Tara had gathered enough somewhat-dry tinder from the scrubby foliage that surrounded the cave to build a fire. She laid Eirian down on her sleeping mat beside the cheerful blaze and covered her body with two of their three blankets. Then she turned her head to look for Epona.

The little slave was rummaging through their food supplies, her expression grave and absorbed. She selected some dried beef and a root from their dwindling supply of dried vegetables. "I think we can have some stew tonight," she said. "It'll be kind of thin, though…we're running low on these." Epona held up the root apologetically.

"That'll be fine. We'll scout around the beach tomorrow morning. We can probably find something squiggly for dinner…or maybe a clam or two, if we're lucky." Tara's stomach growled at the thought of food. She cleared her throat awkwardly to cover the sound. "Ahem! – Uh, I'll be taking a look at the blonde's back. I mean, Eirian."

The priestess raised weary eyes as Tara knelt down beside her. The warrior had wrapped her up carefully for the journey, but Eirian's pale hair was still wet and plastered to her scalp. Without comment, Tara dried her off as best she could. Then she efficiently stripped off Eirian's cloak and tunic to bare her torso. The Celt lay quietly as Tara took out her healer's kit and began to lay out what she needed to clean the wounds. "Hold still," was all the warrior said. She doused a rag with a cleansing herb mixture and began to swab at a cut that marked Eirian's chest from her left shoulder to just beneath her right arm.

It took about twenty minutes for Tara to wipe all of the open wounds. They seemed to be healing cleanly, as far as she could tell, and Eirian's forehead still felt cool under her palm. She felt the Celt's neck and jaw, then peered into the nearly colorless eyes. "You feeling better?" she asked gruffly, in Gael.

Eirian considered. "I think maybe I am," she said. "It still stings, but I don't feel quite so…well, so washed out anymore."

"Good." Tara nodded approvingly. "We'll stick around here for a couple of days so we can keep you warm and dry. You should be good to walk again after that, and we'll head north then. I want to make Aberystwyth by the end of the week so we can get across the channel. We can land at Rosslare…maybe get to Kilkee in a fortnight." Her heartbeat quickened for a moment at the thought.

Wan gray eyes regarded her thoughtfully. "Kilkee…is that your home, warrior?" she whispered.

Tara eyed her. "Yes." Her tone was clipped. "Nowhere near your Carrick on Shannon. It's farther south and west, near the Aran Islands."

"Ah," Eirian murmured. There was a pause. "I went to Clifden once…that's north of the islands." She breathed for a moment, as if the effort of speech tired her. "The ocean around there is very beautiful."

"The sea's not bad." Tara thrust her hands into her pockets and regarded the priestess through narrowed eyes. "Kilkee's a hole, though," she muttered. "Just a handful of smelly shepherds, a few smellier fishermen, and a dozen or so mud huts for 'em all to live in. An inn…a pub, a broken-down dock, and a ramshackle excuse for an open air market." She shot a glare westward, out the mouth of their cave. "I don't even know why the hell I'm going back. Ain't one soul there I give two damns about."

"No family?" the priestess asked.

Cold brown eyes met hers. "No."

"Ah," Eirian whispered again. "I'm sorry."

"I'm not," Tara said cheerfully. "Only relative I ever knew was my mother, and she was a drunken bitch whore. Killing her was the first useful thing I ever did with my life." She rose to her feet and dusted her hands off. "Enough jaw-flapping," she said. "Rest." Without another word, she crossed over to see what Epona was up to.

The little slave was stirring the contents of their cookpot, which were bubbling merrily and emitting clouds of appetizing steam. She gave her owner a small, fleeting smile. "Supper will be ready soon, ma'am," Epona said quietly. "I thought we could have some of our trail bread with it…though we're kind of running low on that, too."

Tara shrugged as she sat down by the flames. "We'll stock up when we get to Gaelis," she said. Epona nodded wordlessly.

The evening passed in relative comfort. A fairly satisfying supper was eaten and cleared up, and small chores were done by firelight afterwards. Once Tara had finished cleaning and maintaining her armor and weapons, she gave Eirian a dose of medicine to put her to sleep. She remained by the priestess until the girl slipped out of consciousness. Then Tara got up and went to her own bedroll.

Their one remaining blanket was laid neatly overtop of it. Tara sat down on it and looked across the fire. Epona was sitting there by the foot of Eirian's bed, cross-legged, with her chin resting in her hands. Her green eyes were gazing into the flames – she had a faraway look on her face, as if she were watching things invisible to Tara's eyes. The warrior watched her for a minute or two. Then she cleared her throat loudly and held out a hand. "Hey, little mouse. Come here."

Startled, Epona looked up from her brown study. "Oh – ! Yes, ma'am." She got up and crossed the cave. She stopped just out of reach of her owner's long arms and regarded Tara with quiet eyes. "What can I do for you?" Her tone was careful, and polite – and just a touch cool.

Tara scowled a bit. iDamn runt's still upset at me, I guess./i She looked away. "Eirian's looking a lot better," she muttered. "She'll probably be back on her feet in a day or two." Epona nodded, but said nothing. The warrior's scowl deepened. She still felt torn between anger and an oddly forlorn, lost feeling. "How long are you going to be mad at me?" she said petulantly. "I did what you said you wanted. And you said you'd forgive me, rodent."

"Yeah. I did." The little slave clasped her hands behind her and looked down at the ground for a moment. There was silence. "I was just thinking," Epona said slowly. "Remembering how you came and fought off all those guys in that battle so they couldn't hurt me, and…the way you made sure I was safe on the ship. Things like that."

The warrior grunted sulkily. "And?"

Grave green eyes lifted. "I'm small," Epona said. "And you kind of tease me about that sometimes, but you've never been mean to me about it, and you've never complained about having to defend me because of it."

Tara's patience was wearing thin. "So? What's that got to do with this?"

"Lots," Epona said seriously. "I think friends shouldn't judge each other. And when friends make mistakes, I think they should forgive each other, especially if they're sorry. And…I'd like us to be friends." The slave's lip quivered just a bit. "So I forgive you, ma'am."

The redhead stared at her for a long moment. A dozen sarcastic retorts moved through her mind and were discarded. Then she held out her hand again. Epona quietly ducked her head and moved forward. As soon as she was in range, Tara caught the slave girl by the wrist and tugged her down into her lap. "C'mere then, pretty girl," she said gruffly. "Sit with me."

Epona looked a bit surprised. She peered shyly up at Tara through her long, black lashes. "Do you really think that, ma'am?" she asked softly, her fingertip tracing the patterns on the front of Tara's breastplate.

"Do I really think what?" the warrior asked, her brows knitting as she mentally reviewed her words. "That you should sit with me?"

"No." The girl fidgeted. "Do you really think I'm pretty?"

Tara's brows lowered. iAgain with this. Why is someone as cute as she is so worried about her looks, anyway?/i "Of course I do. You think I call everyone that?"

"Really?" The little slave's eyes lit up. "You're not just saying it? Do you really think so?"

"Oh, come on." The warrior leaned back against the cave wall and brushed her fingers over the clean lines of Epona's cheekbones, and the bridge of her button nose. "You're adorable. Surely a little lady like you heard that a thousand times growing up…the village boys must have been wild about you."

The slave shook her head. "No," she murmured. "My sisters were all really pretty. My daddy always used to say they were good stock, you know? They all had tan skin and dark eyes, and…and childbearing hips, and round breasts. Even Marcella was kind of like that. She looked like Daddy, all tall and dark." Epona lowered her head. "I was little and pale like Mother," she said softly. "It upset Daddy, I think. He always used to say I looked like a stray whippet…those racing dogs, you know? All skin and bone." Her curly head rested against Tara's shoulder. "He used to tell Marcella I'd probably die trying to give birth, so she shouldn't get too attached to me."

The warrior considered this. iIs she serious?/i Noting the sadness in the slave's green eyes, she thought that she probably was. A surge of anger against Epona's sire flooded her. iBastard. Why in hell would he say things like that about a pretty little thing like her?/i "You know, it's a good thing for your father he's dead already," she said coldly. Epona looked up at her in shocked surprise, and Tara rested a fingertip on the end of the slave's nose. "Because otherwise I'd have to hunt him down and beat him senseless for saying something that stupid about you."

A sad smile curved Epona's lips. "But it's true, though," she whispered. "I'm not like my sisters. I probably would die giving birth. My hips are too narrow."

Tara's hand slipped down to cup one of Epona's slender hips. They were indeed narrow, the warrior thought, but they had nice curves, and Tara liked the feel of them. "Hm. Well, let's see. Hold still." She began to undress the slave, thoughtfully regarding the boyish torso and neat little breasts as they were uncovered. Epona was nervously quiet, neither moving nor speaking as her owner worked. "Well," Tara said slowly, "I'm a practical woman. And I suppose these aren't likely to nourish a lot of babies." She cupped the little mounds. They fit easily into her palms; she could feel the nipples hardening under her touch, and heard Epona give a low gasp. "But I think they do their job." The warrior gave her a wicked grin just before ducking her head to tease a small breast with her tongue.

Epona groaned through her teeth, her slim body sagging bonelessly against her owner's. Tara gave a chuckle and lifted her head to look at her. The warrior's hands rubbed gently at the slave's chest for a minute or two longer – Epona's eyes darkened with desire as she watched. Then Tara brushed her hands down Epona's sides and began to tug at the waistband of her trousers.

"Now, let's see those hips you're bellyaching about." Tara was enjoying herself immensely, and enjoying the soft sounds of pleasure the slave was making even more. "Let's see," she teased as she slid the fabric down and off Epona's lean legs. "Hm…you're right, they're not much for childbearing, are they?" She grasped Epona's waist and lowered the slave to the ground. The girl was gasping helplessly as Tara's callused palms rubbed over her hips and buttocks. "No." Tara's voice dropped into a deep, sexy purr. "But I'll bet they do their job, too. Should we find out, little slave girl?"

The smaller woman panted and clung to her. "Yes! Yes, please." Her dainty fingers fumbled at the straps that held on Tara's breastplate. The warrior graciously paused until the bulky armor had been removed. Then she lowered herself on top of the slender reed that lay beneath her, feeling the eager little hands gripping her shoulders as she kissed Epona's soft mouth.

"Mmm." Tara kissed her way down Epona's neck to her shoulder, which she nibbled at. "Got any other body parts you're worried about?" she asked impishly. "I'll bet I could test 'em all for you, ibeag luch."/i And the little slave's musical laughter rippled in her ears as they surrendered themselves to the building waves of passion.

It was very late by the time Tara tugged the blanket around both of them. Epona was sprawled blissfully overtop of her, slender limbs entangled with her owner's. Tara placed a gentle kiss on the top of the curly head that lay beneath her chin. The anger and hurt had faded, leaving only a languid sense of well-being. The slave's arms squeezed her just a little. "Thank you, ma'am," Epona whispered shyly, turning her face to kiss Tara's throat. "I'm glad you like how I look. I…" Epona's cheeks colored charmingly, and her dainty finger traced Tara's jawline. "I think you're awfully pretty," she whispered.

"Do you?" Tara grinned. She didn't think she was vain, but she knew she had an ego, and it preened under the attention.

"Oh, yes." Epona nodded vigorously. "More than pretty. You're…" And she stopped, obviously hunting for the right word. "You're magnificent," she pronounced.

The warrior burst into laughter and cuddled Epona's bare body against her own. "Such a silver-tongued little mouse," she said. "Is that what you're going to call my memoirs, my bard? 'The Adventures of Raven the Magnificent?'" She traced the slave's blush with her fingers. Epona hurriedly buried her face in Tara's chest as if to hide, until only the tips of her pink ears peeked out. The warrior chuckled and relaxed, gently sorting the black curls and tweaking the girl's earlobes. Epona squirmed. "Oh, come out, ibeag luch,"/i Tara coaxed. "It's just a little teasing."

"I know." Smiling, moss-green eyes peeped at her. "I…speaking of stories, I wanted to ask you for something, ma'am."

"Well, ask then." Tara gave her a lazy, sexy smile.

Slender fingers ran lightly over Tara's muscled abdomen. "It's…well," Epona murmured. "I wondered if maybe I could have some things to write with. Some quills and ink, and…I don't know, some parchment, maybe. I'd like to write my stories down." She looked up at her owner timidly. "Would that be okay?"

The redheaded Gael thought for a few moments. "We might be able to find you something in Aberystwyth," she said slowly. "There isn't much of that sort of thing in Gael, though. So you'll have to make do with whatever I can get you over here." Her callused palm cupped Epona's cheek. "All right, little mouse?"

"All right. Thank you." The little slave snuggled down contentedly in Tara's arms and closed her eyes. The warrior indulgently stroked the curly head and waited. Soon Epona's breathing deepened and sweetened, and she was asleep, sprawled in peaceful abandon over her owner's body. Tara smiled and settled down to watch for the night.


	65. Chapter 65

It was cold. Epona shivered and hesitated at the mouth of the cave, her basket clutched in both her skinny hands. iMaybe I should bring my cloak…?/i Then she shrugged. iI'll only be gone a couple of minutes anyway. I'll do without./i And she walked up the beach toward the fish trap.

The little slave was up early that morning, even before Tara. The warrior was still sprawled on her sleeping mat with her eyelids closed. Epona was under no illusions – she knew the woman wasn't asleep – but she'd decided to get up and make breakfast anyway. She thought Tara might like something hot and fresh. Her green eyes sparkled at the thought of the woman's approval. iAnd she promised to listen to my new story today, the one about that wildcat we saw yesterday./i Epona's heart beat a little bit faster. It was going to be an extra special story, and she hoped Tara would like it.

As Epona reached the edge that dropped off into the water near the fish trap, she felt her heart sink in disappointment. "Aww," she whispered, gazing down at the choppy water below. "The tide's still in." Her happy dreams of baked fish evaporated. For a moment, she just stood there, her lower lip poking out slightly. Then she dropped her basket and edged closer, peering into the water. "I wonder if there's any fish down there right now? Maybe I could find a way to catch one if there are." The gray surface seemed almost opaque.

There was a grinding sound beneath her feet. Epona stopped short in sudden confusion – the rocks shifted, and she stumbled. Her foot slipped on the slick surface, and Epona felt herself skidding. With a little squeak of alarm, she fell!

The shock of the frigid water took Epona's breath away. She clawed her way to the surface. For one terrifying moment, her lungs seemed frozen. Then she coughed, and sucked in a breath of air. Seawater went down her throat, and Epona choked – her hands scrabbled frantically at the rocks. It took a minute or two for her to stop panicking and cough all the water out of her lungs. Then, still clinging to the rocks, the frightened little slave began to take stock of her situation.

The water was pretty deep. Epona couldn't find purchase for her feet. She tried to climb up the stones that loomed over her, but they were covered in slime, and her small fingers couldn't gain enough traction to pull herself up. She tried until her hands were raw and bleeding. Then she gave up, slumping against the rock in growing despair.

It was so, so cold! Epona was shivering uncontrollably now as she clung to her haven. iI should yell for help. I should call Tara,/i she thought miserably. iBut she'll be so angry at me for being careless! I'm scared./i She turned her green eyes to further study her predicament. iMaybe if I swim along the rocks, I can get over to that place where we got out yesterday./i Slowly, the slave forced her cold-stiffened body to start moving along the shoreline.

Her progress was painfully slow. Her boots had filled with water, and made her legs feel as heavy as lead. She wanted to kick them off, but she knew losing them wasn't an option – Tara would surely punish her if she did. Epona struggled on stubbornly. She couldn't feel her hands anymore, and her teeth were chattering so hard that her jaw ached.

And then, with shocking suddenness, a wave tore her loose from the rocks! Epona gave a little scream of alarm as cold water closed over her head. She struggled back to the surface and tried to swim back to safety, but a strong current was pulling her away from the shore, and she was too cold and exhausted to stop it. Terror flooded her as she felt her sodden boots pulling her under again. "Tara!" she screamed in panic. "Help – help! iTara!"/i

She went under.

It was dark and cold and terrifying. Water filled Epona's mouth and nose, and the hungry roar of the waves flooded her ears. Epona thrashed helplessly – she couldn't even tell which way was up. Against the odds, her head broke the surface, and she managed to fill her lungs with air before she sank again. She was tired – so very tired, and her frantic struggles were weakening. iI'm dying,/i Epona realized dimly. iI'm going to drown, and no one's ever going to find me./i Some of her air escaped, bubbling up before her eyes. She thrashed a few times more. Then she relaxed, and her eyes closed.

Something solid hit her, hard, from behind. The last of Epona's air burst from her lungs at the shock of it. She squirmed feebly as she felt herself being tugged through the water. Then her head was hauled up into the air, and she was coughing and gasping and sobbing in almost unbearable relief. A powerful arm wrapped itself around her waist, and Epona tore at it in a panic with both of her numb hands. "Relax. Don't fight me," came Tara's harsh voice. The little slave forced back the unreasoning terror and obediently went limp. She felt Tara's muscles flex against her as the warrior's body began to cut through the surf towards land.

A few minutes later, a very limp and exhausted Epona was being carried into the cave. She'd stopped shivering, and she knew in a vague way that this was a bad sign. She was too tired to even hold on to Tara – something that she badly wanted to do.

The warrior laid her down and began to strip off the slave's soaked garments. "How long were you in the water?" Tara demanded. There was an edge to her voice.

"Don't know." Epona's tongue felt thick and strange in her mouth. Her words slurred. "Fell in…so cold." She peered blearily up at Tara's face as her leggings were removed. "You mad at me?" she asked wistfully.

"Of course I am." Tara muttered a few choice curses under her breath as she wrapped Epona's naked body in blankets. "Why in hell didn't you call me right away, you stupid girl? Don't you know how goddamn dangerous that was?"

Tears came. "Sorry," Epona whispered. A sob shook her exhausted form. "Didn't mean to. Please don't…be mad."

Tara paused, sighed, and smoothed the hair back from Epona's face. "All right. Never mind," she said gruffly. "Stop crying. I'll yell at you later, okay?" Tara tossed more wood on the fire and moved her slave closer to the flames. The slave moaned softly as the delicious heat began to caress her.

There was movement nearby, and Eirian's pale, sleep-tousled head poked up. "What happen?" she murmured groggily, her gray eyes resting on Epona in sudden concern. "Epona, you hurt?"

"She fell in the ocean and just about drowned." Tara was setting water over the fire to boil, and hurriedly measuring tea leaves into a wooden cup. "And the damned little fool didn't call for help right away, so she's half frozen to death."

At this, Eirian sat bolt upright in alarm. There was silence for a while. Epona let her eyes close. Her thoughts were getting slower and fuzzier, and she was so tired – she was iso/i tired. She heard voices, but the words couldn't penetrate the haze she was floating in. Then she felt her blankets shifting, and something soft and incredibly warm pressed along the length of her body. Epona whimpered. She was beginning to shiver again, keeping her awake, when all she wanted to do was sleep.

"Epona." The little slave screwed her eyes shut defiantly. "Epona." Now the voice deepened into a warning growl. "You open your eyes, right now." Epona wearily did as she was told. There were arms around her, and something was held to her lips. She swallowed the hot tea weakly, her teeth chattering so hard that she could barely swallow. iEirian…Eirian's holding me./i Epona blinked as the Celt's pale face swam into view. Tara was there, too, holding the tea.

The redhead tipped the cup, and more warm liquid trickled into Epona's mouth. "Swallow," Tara snapped, and the little slave obeyed. She could see the worry in Tara's dark eyes. The warrior waved a hand. "Give her to me. You make some soup, Celt. Hurry it up."

Epona whimpered as she was passed into Tara's muscular arms. She shivered and rested her head against the Gael's broad shoulder. Guilt flooded her. iGods, I'm so stupid! Eirian's already sick, and now Tara has to take care of me, too./i "Sorry," she stuttered. "Was s-stupid…"

"Quiet." Tara cradled her close so that her body heat could penetrate her slave's chilled form. "Just relax. We'll get you warmed up, okay? Relax." The cup revisited Epona's lips. "Drink, now. This'll heat you from the inside." The smaller girl forced her chattering teeth to accept more tea. The warmth felt good.

Consciousness faded. Epona knew she was still being held in Tara's arms, and she knew she was miserably cold, but she wasn't aware of much else. Warm things visited her mouth every now and then to be swallowed, and gentle heat radiated against her skin, but she felt as if her very bones were still encased in ice. She sank deeper still, until she was only aware of the cold – just barely conscious enough to still be miserable.

Her eyes opened.

It was dark in the cavern. Firelight threw weird, flickering shadows against the stone walls – they loomed strangely over her. Epona was lying on a mat with blankets swathed around her body. She still felt cold and exhausted. Her chest felt tight and heavy, somehow. Epona stirred a little, then stopped with a pitiful moan as her body was wracked with shivers. Her muscles ached. She laid her head back down, shuddering as her cheek pressed against a mat that felt as cold as ice.

An instant later, a cool hand pressed against her forehead. "Hey," came Tara's gruff voice. Her expression was unusually gentle. "How you feeling, runt?"

Epona's mouth felt dry, and her throat hurt. She suspected it had to do with all the salt water she'd inhaled. "Cold," she whispered. "Thirsty." Her breath caught, and she coughed a few times. "Water?" she said hopefully, once she could breathe again.

The warrior held the neck of a waterskin to Epona's mouth. The slave gulped a few times. The cool water made her shiver all over again, but it also made her feel a little better. She lay back with another faint cough. Tara leaned forward and laid her ear over Epona's chest. "Breathe," she said tersely. Epona felt an all-too-familiar rattling in her lungs as she complied. She looked up mournfully at Tara's grim face. "Well, it's a good thing this case is decent shelter," Tara muttered. "Looks like we're going to be stuck here for a while."

"I'm sorry," Epona whispered, blinking to keep back the tears that threatened.

Tara sighed. Then she stooped down to kiss Epona's cheek. "Never mind. What's done is done," she said quietly. "Let's just concentrate on getting you healthy again." She stroked the slave's pale forehead. "I'll make you something for that cough."

Epona reached up a small fist to tangle it in Tara's shirt collar, preventing the woman from moving away. "You forgive me?" she pleaded softly.

The redhead rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah." Her tone was disinterested, but Epona saw the perceptible gentling of the dark eyes, and the hint of a smile that played around the edges of the woman's lips. "Now let me go so I can mix up your dose, rodent." The little slave obeyed. Her gaze followed Tara as the woman began to measure herbs from her healing kit into a cup. "There." Tara added water and knelt down by Epona's side. "Take your medicine like a good little mouse."

The stuff tasted horrible. Epona shuddered, but she swallowed it bravely. When she had finished the cup, Tara took it away. Then the little slave felt herself being tugged up into her owner's arms. Tara's body felt nice and warm and solid. Epona snuggled against her. She gave a soft sigh of pleasure as Tara gently stroked her hair.

Tara smiled a bit. "You like that?"

"Yeah." The slave muffled another cough and let her fevered head rest against the soft leather that covered Tara's chest. A flash of memory – she could almost feel the frigid water filling her mouth, and the heavy boots dragging her down. She flinched and squeezed her eyes shut. She could still remember that moment of utter despair, and then the moment of incredible relief as she'd been pulled back up into the air. "Thank you for saving me," she murmured. "I was really scared, Tara."

There was a moment's pause at this. Epona replayed her words in her mind and realized that she'd used her owner's first name. She froze, her eyes widening in sudden fear. Then the warrior dropped a gentle kiss on her lips. "You're welcome, ibeag luch,"/i she said quietly. "But no more impromptu swimming sessions, okay? Not unless I'm there."

Epona let out her breath in a long sigh of relief. She pressed her face into Tara's shoulder and closed her eyes. "Okay," she whispered. The warrior carefully tucked the blanket around Epona's slim body. The slave finally gave in to her exhaustion. She lay limply and allowed the comforting warmth to carry her into oblivion.


	66. Chapter 66

It had been four very long days. Tara dozed lightly, her head resting against the cold stone behind her. She was very tired, having not slept for the better part of that time, but she refused to allow herself the luxury of losing consciousness. The welfare of the small young woman in her arms took priority over taking a nap.

Her dark eyes moved down to Epona. The slave's curly head rested against her shoulder as she slept. Despite Tara's best efforts, Epona's illness had gotten slowly and steadily worse. A deep, racking cough had set in, accompanied by a fever a growing nausea. Tara rested her hand lightly on the girl's forehead. It felt warm and moist.

Green eyes drifted open and looked up at her dazedly. Tara quietly returned the look. "Hey." Epona blinked, but didn't react otherwise. The warrior reached for a nearby waterskin. "Here. Try to drink a bit more," she said.

"Okay." The word was barely audible, a mere whisper of breath. The slave closed her eyes as she sipped feebly, as though it would take too much energy for her to drink and open them at the same time. She stopped after two swallows.

Gently but insistently, Tara pressed the spout to Epona's lips again. "Drink," she urged. "You need to take more, little mouse."

The girl's glazed eyes opened a crack. "Sick."

"I know." Tara kissed the damp forehead. "You're sick to your stomach, and you don't want to drink. But trust me – you need to. Okay?" The slave whimpered softly. "Come on. Two more swallows. Just two more." Epona obeyed. Tara couldn't help smiling just a little. "Good girl," she murmured, and kissed the slave's forehead again. "You are, you know that? You really are."

The little slave managed a weak smile. Then a fit of coughing struck, convulsing her slender body. Quickly, Tara turned the girl onto her side and held her head as she gagged and choked. "Small breaths," Tara said, her tone calm despite the panicked gasping of the girl in her lap. "Slow and shallow, remember? It's okay." She thumped Epona between her shoulder blades. Small hands clutched fistfuls of Tara's tunic as Epona fought for air. "That's it. Slow and shallow."

It took some time before the little slave once again slumped in her owner's arms. Her slim fingers tightened convulsively with each tiny, rasping breath.

Tara let out a long breath of her own and placed a kiss on the top of the curly head. "That's it. Just breathe. Rest." She let her brow rest against Epona's head and closed her eyes. "It'll be all right," she whispered.

A light touch on Tara's arm brought her head up. She blinked in confusion at the pale face that swam into view. "I've made some food, warrior," a quiet voice said in Gael. "There's baked fish, and I made some soup for Epona. Do you want to eat?"

The redhead rubbed her eyes as her fogged mind identified the speaker as Eirian. "Yeah." A bowl of steaming fish was placed in Tara's hands. It had been cooked wrapped up in strips of seaweed. Tara put a bite of it on her tongue, letting the salty flavor of it spread through her mouth. iSmelt,/i she thought, pleasantly surprised. iI haven't tasted this in a decade./i

She looked up. Eirian was kneeling by the fire, carefully scooping hot soup into another bowl. The priestess had been a godsend over the past few days, Tara had to admit. Without being asked, Eirian had taken over the gathering and preparation of food so that Tara could care for the sick slave. And even Tara was forced to acknowledge that she had needed the help. Her eyes lingered on the Celt. iWonder why she doesn't just run off? It isn't like I could track her down now, with Epona like this./i

Eirian brought over the soup. "Warrior," she said softly, "you should eat and rest. Let me take care of Epona for a few hours."

The warrior scowled. "Give me that damn soup," she growled, reaching for it.

With a gentle twitch, Eirian pulled the bowl out of Tara's reach. Brown eyes glared in outrage. "It's been over three days," Eirian said gently. "I know that you don't want to leave her, warrior, but you need sleep. It will do no good to any of us if you make yourself sick, too." She gave Tara a quiet smile. "I promise to wake you if she needs you."

Tara growled at her, but she knew the Celt was right. She iwas/i tired. Scowling, the redhead looked away. "Fine," she muttered. "But don't get any stupid ideas, priestess. I was thinking about getting some sleep, anyway." Eirian bowed her head in assent. Tara set down her fish and brushed her palm over Epona's forehead. The slave's glazed eyes lifted and focused on Tara's face. "Hey," the warrior said gruffly. "I need to lie down for a while, runt. Eirian's going to take care of you in the meantime."

The little slave's fingers, which had been resting on Tara's arm, moved in a tiny caress. "Okay."

Gently, the warrior eased Epona down to the floor, running her fingers through the dark curls before backing away. Her dark eyes flicked to Eirian. "Don't let her lie flat," she said. "It makes fluid build up in the lungs." The Celt nodded. As Tara watched, Eirian drew the little slave up until her head and torso rested on her lap. Tara resumed munching on her food; the priestess began to coax some soup down Epona's throat.

There was silence for a while. Tara finished her meal and set the empty bowl aside. She gazed darkly at the priestess for a minute or two, lost in thought. Then she slipped over to where they kept their packs and began to dig through them. She found what she was looking for. Turning back, she moved to where Eirian was sitting.

Pale gray eyes looked up. Tara returned the look coolly and held up her hands, now dripping with chains. "Give me a wrist, priestess." Eirian's brow furrowed. It looked for a moment as if she was going to protest. Then, silently, the Celt lifted her left arm. Tara fastened a shackle around Eirian's wrist. Dropping to one knee, the warrior took one of the rags that lay nearby and wrapped it around one of Epona's arms. Carefully, she locked the other end of the short chain to the slave's slender wrist, so that the cloth cushioned the skin against the iron. Epona peered at her in groggy confusion, and Tara stooped down to kiss her cheek. "It's okay," she said huskily. "I'm just making sure the priestess doesn't get any ideas while I'm sleeping, all right?"

"Don't need to," Epona whispered, her brows lowering.

"Yeah, yeah. I know you don't think so." The warrior gave the smaller girl a wry smile. "I'll let you both loose when I wake up, little mouse. Don't worry about it. You just rest, and the chain'll be off before you know it." Epona grumbled a bit, but closed her eyes, too tired to really pursue the matter. Tara sat back on her heels and leveled her gaze at the priestess. "Keep her warm. Wake me right away if she needs me, got it?"

Eirian nodded quietly. "Yes, warrior."

Satisfied, Tara moved to the other side of the cave and settled down on her bedroll. As tired as she was, she didn't want to sleep for long – not with Epona's health failing the way it was. The warrior closed her eyes. iJust a couple of hours,/i she told herself. iJust enough to recharge a little...then I can work on the runt again./i

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Tara woke about four hours later. Eirian's head lifted as the warrior sat up. The priestess was still sitting in more or less the same position, with Epona's form slumped against her. The smell of sickness made Tara's nose wrinkle. "She can't keep anything down," Eirian explained in Gael, sounding exhausted. "She brought up the soup twice, so I gave her some water to drink, but she brought that up as well."

The warrior got up. Without a word, she released the shackles that bound the two together. The priestess went to get some seawater to clean the cave; Tara knelt over the little slave to examine her. Epona moaned miserably as her owner's hand brushed her cheek. "Little mouse?" The green eyes peered vaguely in her direction. Tara noted the heat of the girl's face with some trepidation. "Do you know where you are?" she asked. Epona groaned again, but that was her only response. Her hair was wringing wet; the fabric of her tunic clung damply to her skin. Tara's brows lowered. "Hey," she said insistently. "Epona. Look at me."

Only then did the slave's eyes seem to focus on her face. A small hand crept up to rest limply on Tara's. "Medicine?" Epona whispered pitifully.

"Yes. I'll give you something. You must be pretty uncomfortable," Tara said. She stooped to lay her ear against the girl's frail chest. The rasp and rattle in her lungs was painfully loud. Tara pursed her lips grimly. "I'm going to try a couple of things, actually."

Eirian returned with some seawater. She knelt down and began to wash the places where Epona's sickness had fouled the cave floor. Tara gave the invalid a reassuring pat before opening her healer's kit and searching through it. She set water on to boil and sifted through her medicines. She was running low on a couple of things, which worried her – she didn't want to run out of what she needed, especially not with Epona being as sick as she was. With a sigh, Tara set out the items she needed.

When the water was boiling, Tara mixed some herbs in a cup and ladled some of the steaming liquid in. Then, setting the cup aside, she took a handful of dried green leaves and tossed them into the remaining water, which was still bubbling over the flames. She took the cookpot off the coals and gently lifted Epona into her lap – the little slave moaned at the jostling. "Listen, ibeag luch,"/i Tara said quietly. "I want you to breathe this steam. It'll help clear your lungs, all right?"

"Okay." Epona rolled her head feebly toward the steam as Tara moved her toward it. For a few minutes Tara held her there, watching as the slave inhaled the strong-smelling vapors. The warrior waited until there was no more obvious steam coming off the surface of the water; then she drew Epona back into her lap and held the rim of the cooled cup to the girl's lips. Epona grimaced and turned her face away.

"You need to swallow it," Tara said firmly. "There's herbs in there to settle your stomach, and something for your fever." Epona whimpered. "Come on, little mouse," she coaxed, placing a kiss on the girl's fevered brow. "Just a few swallows, and then you can rest again."

The little slave looked at her pitifully. Then, with some resignation, she put her mouth to the cup and weakly sucked in a mouthful. Almost immediately, she gagged, her slim body heaving in Tara's arms. "Shh," the warrior whispered, pressing a hand to Epona's forehead and willing her to relax. "Don't panic. It's okay." Epona gave a sob. "Shh. Just relax. We'll wait a minute before you have to drink more."

The mouthful of medicine, small as it was, seemed to settle Epona's stomach a bit. She was able to swallow the rest of the dose after a few minutes of rest. "Good girl," Tara murmured. She looked around for Eirian, and found the priestess sitting nearby, watching with anxious eyes. "Get some fresh water," she instructed. "I want to wash her a little. She's dripping with sweat."

"As you wish, warrior." Eirian got up, took one of their larger waterskins, and headed out to the freshwater spring where they'd been getting their drinking water.

Tara drew the blanket snugly around Epona's body and kissed the girl's mouth. The slave's small fingers curled around a handful of blanket, and she managed to give Tara a weak smile. The redhead returned it. "Feel a little better?" she asked softly. "Are the herbs working?"

The tip of Epona's pink tongue appeared, running over lips now cracked and dry. "Little bit," came the faint reply.

"Good." Tara fumbled for a full waterskin. "Let's get some water into you, then. Drink as much as you can." She held the spout to Epona's lips until the girl couldn't swallow anymore. Then she settled the little slave more comfortably in her arms and waited for Eirian to return.

The priestess appeared a few minutes later. Between the two of them, they stripped off Epona's sweat-drenched clothes and bathed her with moistened rags. Then Eirian took the soiled clothing and went back to the spring to wash them. Tara wrapped her charge carefully in the blanket and drew the curly head up to rest against her shoulder. Another fit of racking coughs shook the invalid – it took a while to pass, and left the little slave breathless and gasping for some time. Tara held her in silence.

Epona peered up at her owner. Her lip quivered. "Am I dying?"

The words sent a horrible jolt through the warrior. Tara's insides suddenly felt very cold. She scowled down at the little slave. "Don't be stupid," she growled. "I told you I'd take care of you. You think I'd let some pathetic coughing sickness take you? You're going to be fine." Her hand stroked the side of Epona's face, the gentle touch in marked contrast to the roughness of her tone.

The little slave's eyes were noticeably wet. "Scared," she whispered.

"Don't be." Tara's voice grew softer. "I'm taking care of you, little mouse. I know it's pretty miserable, but it'll be all right."

"Don't wanna die."

"You won't." The redhead peered into the girl's eyes, catching and holding them with her own piercing brown ones. "You won't. Do you understand, Epona? I won't let it happen." Epona's tears escaped, trickling slowly down her cheeks. Tara wiped them away without wavering her gaze. "Trust me."

Slowly, some of the fear and misery in Epona's eyes faded. She closed them and buried her face into the side of Tara's accommodating neck. "I do," she said softly.

"Good girl." Tara's voice was husky. Then silence fell, as Epona fell into a doze born of sheer exhaustion. The warrior watched over her as she slept.

It was quiet for some time. The sunlight outside faded, and night fell. Tara kept up her long vigil. Every half-hour or so, she would test the little slave's temperature with the back of her hand, and listen carefully to her labored breathing. There was no improvement, but no obvious decline, either. She drew her healer's kit over and eyed its contents. iRunning low on those herbs that clear mucous from the lungs,/i she mused darkly. iI've got enough left for maybe another three, four days of this. If the runt's no better by tomorrow night or the next morning, I'm going to have to try to carry her to Aberystwyth. Hate to move her, sick as she is, but…can't risk getting stuck out here with no medicines./i

Eirian, who had been gazing pensively into the heart of their fire, now got up and moved over to brush Epona's cheek with her fingers. "She very bad?" she asked in her broken Argonian, her light gray eyes full of grave concern.

The warrior pursed her lips for a moment, considering how she wanted to answer the question. Then she just sighed and shrugged one shoulder. "It's pretty bad," she confirmed quietly. "Pneumonia, I think. I'm not sure if it was getting half-drowned, or the cold, or both, but…she's a sick girl." Pensively, Tara brushed a black curl away from Epona's sleeping face. Then she looked up at the Celt; the blond girl gazed back at her soberly. "You should get some sleep," Tara said gruffly, switching over to Gael. "No sense in both of us having to stay awake."

Eirian hesitated. Then, silently, she nodded and rose to her feet. Tara watched grimly as the priestess made her way over to her bedroll. Then she leaned back against the cave wall and rested her head against it. A weary glance out the cave mouth told her it was probably about ten. Tara closed her eyes and let herself drift just a little. She hoped Epona would be feeling a little better once she woke up.

She was jolted out of her light snooze by the strangled choking of the girl in her lap. Tara quickly sat up and clasped her arms around Epona's slim form. The slave was struggling to breathe. Her coughing sounded deeper than it had the afternoon before. "Easy, easy," the warrior said, and quickly turned Epona so that her head was lower than her chest. "It's okay, little mouse," she said, firmly thumping the girl on the back to help dislodge the stubborn phlegm. "Shallow breaths, remember? Short and shallow."

No sooner had one fit of coughing passed, when another one began. Tara coaxed the sick slave through it. Epona cried when it was finally over – tiny little whimpering sobs. The warrior held her silently for a while. "Okay," she murmured, once Epona was calmer. "You're all right. It's over." She uncorked a waterskin. "Drink."

The water that Epona dutifully swallowed came back up a few minutes later. Once Tara had dealt with this, she gave the girl a dose of herbs to settle her stomach – poor Epona got sick again, and again, the dry heaves triggering yet another helpless fit of coughing. By the time it finally passed, the little slave was dripping with sweat again. She was dead weight in Tara's arms as she tried to recover.

iThis is bad./i Tara mixed up another cup of herbs; her fingers were shaking slightly. iThe kid's got to be dehydrated by now. If she can't even hold down water and medicine, this could get really ugly./i The second dose fared no better than the first. Tara decided to give up for the time being, and let the exhausted, miserable girl rest for a while. iGods, the poor little scrap,/i she thought as she bathed the feverish forehead. iI wish I'd realized what happened sooner…I should've gone out with her that morning, then none of this would have happened! Even if she'd still fallen in, I could've pulled her out before she got so chilled./i

Epona coughed faintly. "Hard to breathe."

"I know," Tara said. "It'll pass." The glazed green eyes were still half-open. Tara bent her head to kiss the pale forehead. "Sleep," she said gruffly. "Get your strength back. We'll try some more medicine when you wake up."

"Don't wanna sleep." Epona's weary gaze moved up to hers.

Tara frowned. "Why not?"

The slave looked very young and vulnerable. Her eyes dropped, and her skinny fingers dug themselves into the soft blanket. "Might not wake up."

For a second time, Tara's guts clenched. She scowled. "You will," she said fiercely. "You will, little mouse, you hear me? Anything tries to hurt you, I'll kick its ass, and that includes this stupid cough." Her arms tightened protectively around the helpless form. Then, seeing the fear still in the moss-green eyes, Tara consciously gentled both her grip and her voice. "It's okay." She stroked Epona's brow. "Trust me," she said. "Go to sleep. I'll take care of you."

Childlike, Epona seemed to take her at her word. The lines of tension in the slave's face smoothed out. With a look of perfect trust, Epona closed her eyes and let her head nestle into the crook of Tara's elbow. The hours crept by, and the fire burned low. And all through the night, like a good soldier, Tara kept watch over her defenseless charge.


	67. Chapter 67

Dawn was usually the harbinger of hope, with the promise of light and the beginning of a new day. Tara regarded the softening of the darkness wearily, her fingers gently threading through the soft, dark hair of the girl in her lap. Epona was still out cold. Only the faint rise and fall of her chest and rasp of breath indicated that she was still alive. The girl's skin had taken on an unhealthy, ashen hue.

Not a good sign.

Tara gritted her teeth and closed her eyes against a wave of helpless anger. She hated being powerless – hated it with a passion. The little slave was sinking lower and lower, and nothing Tara could do seemed to be making much of a difference. _Especially now that she can't seem to keep anything down,_ Tara thought. She glanced out the mouth of the cave, sighed deeply, and bent her head down to kiss Epona's cheek. "Little mouse." The invalid twitched faintly. "Wake up," Tara said gently. "It's morning. We need to get some liquid into you. Swallow this." And she held a cup to the girl's lips. It contained a small, powerful dose of herbs to settle nausea. Tara hoped it would do its work before Epona's roiling stomach could reject it.

With painful slowness, Epona's eyes opened. Her gaze looked a bit clearer than it had the night before. She meekly accepted the mouthful of medicine. Tara waited anxiously, but nothing happened other than a grimace or two from Epona. After a few minutes, the warrior began to coax as much water down the little slave's throat as she could take. Epona listlessly accepted the liquid, her throat moving with her slow gulps.

"Good girl," Tara murmured, unable to keep the relief out of her voice. "That's a good girl. Keep drinking."

The slave drank for a while longer, and then stopped to rest. The warrior set down the waterskin nearby, ready to be retrieved at a moment's notice. Epona peered up at her with a small smile. "I woke up," she whispered.

"Yeah, you did. Told you that you would." Tara gave her a halfhearted grin. "You didn't think I'd lie to you, did you?"

"No." The little slave's mouth was still curved into a soft smile. Tara couldn't quite resist leaning down and kissing it. Epona sighed and closed her eyes. "So tired still."

Tara stroked Epona's forehead. It still felt hot, but she thought it wasn't as bad as it had been the night before. "Yeah. You'll be pretty weak for a while yet, _beag luch,"_ she said quietly. "Have you have pneumonia before? I know you said you've had coughing sicknesses."

Epona's hand curled around Tara's arm. "Not this…bad." The little slave breathed for a minute or two. "Had doctors."

"Uh huh," Tara said wryly. "And you probably had a soft bed, and a warm room, and good food, too. Not like here." Her long fingers laced into Epona's slim ones. "Kind of my fault, I guess. Hauling you around Britannia in the wintertime." Her voice grew rough, and nearly broke. There was a pause as Tara stopped to swallow carefully. "I think we're going to have to try to get you to Aberystwyth, little mouse. I'm running low on medicine, and…well, you should be in a warmer, safer place, anyway."

Weakly, Epona gave her another tiny smile. "Okay." She paused to breathe a little. "Bed would…be nice."

"I bet." The warrior looked up as a rustling came to her ears. Eirian was awake. As Tara watched, the priestess shuffled over to their food stores and began to rummage. Tara glanced down at the pale, exhausted slave, and then looked up. "Eirian." The Celt paused to look at her. "I want to talk to you," Tara said in Gael. "Outside. Now." Eirian raised her brows, but gave a quiet nod and rose to her feet accordingly. Tara dropped a kiss on Epona's forehead. "I'm going to talk to Eirian for a few minutes," she said quietly. "Take it easy until I get back, all right?" The invalid closed her eyes and nodded.

It was overcast and miserably cold outside. The clouds were sullen, and a chill wind swept over the rocky beach in fitful gusts. Tara thought she could taste rain on the air. She scowled at the inoffensive horizon before turning to the blond girl, who was waiting quietly, her hands clasped in front of her.

There was silence for a while as Tara's piercing eyes studied Eirian. Then the warrior spoke. "Call your goddess."

Eirian blinked. "I'm sorry?"

"Call her," Tara snapped. "You're here to help me? The Morrigan's supposed to be so all-fired concerned about me, since she claims me? Well, my slave's in there dying. Call on her." The priestess opened her mouth to speak, and Tara snarled. _"Call her!_ You're supposed to be her voice, her messenger. Well, you can damn well make good on that now. Call on your cursed goddess!"

Silence. The young priestess finally sighed. "I will try, warrior," she said. "I can't tell you whether or not the Morrigan will speak…she is a goddess. She speaks when she wants to speak, not when mere mortals command her." Tara snorted, and Eirian sat down, cross-legged. The pale gray eyes closed; silence fell again. Only the unending roar of the ocean waves echoed over the rocks.

A harsh croak shattered the stillness. Tara looked up sharply to find a raven perched on the cliff above the cavern's opening. The bird hopped on its stony perch and bobbed its head, fixing her with its beady black eyes. She scowled at it and turned her attention back to the still, silent priestess. There was a flutter of wings; Tara looked up, and saw that a second raven had joined the first. It cawed at her. She frowned. A harsh cry to the right drew Tara's attention to yet another black bird a dozen yards off.

Then another came.

And another. Then a few more.

Tara was no coward, but she was starting to feel uneasy. There were now no less than ten ravens clustered around where she and Eirian were, and they weren't acting normal. The birds simply sat where they were, fluttering occasionally, and watching - _watching._ The warrior let her hand rest on the hilt of her sword, her dark eyes flicking around uncertainly.

More ravens. With a rush of wings, six of the birds arrived at one time, joining their fellows. Tara looked nervously over at Eirian; the priestess was as still as a stone, her eyes closed, her hands resting in her lap. More wings beat the air, and more, and…Tara began to shiver, and not from the cold. "What the hell's going on?" she snarled, her fingers now clenched tight around her sword hilt. She didn't know how many birds surrounded them now, but the rocks were thick with them – brooding, silent, their inky plumage reflecting the morning light with subtle shimmers of purple and blue. Tara shuddered.

There was a long, potent silence. Then, abruptly, Eirian's eyes snapped open.

Tara gasped. Instead of their usual pale gray, the eyes of the priestess were a deep coal-black – a mere negation of color, like cavernous holes in the girl's white face. With ethereal grace, Eirian rose to her feet and turned her gaze on Tara. And despite the smaller stature of the priestess, Tara suddenly felt as if Eirian dwarfed her. She had a deep urge to drop to her knees. The warrior stared at her in disbelief.

Those unworldly eyes studied the redhead for a moment before the pale lips curved, and an odd, harsh voice finally spoke. "Welcome home, Tara."

It took a few moments for Tara to pull herself together enough to respond. "The Morrigan, I presume." Her voice sounded a bit weak in her own ears, to her great annoyance. Her heart was pounding.

"Mm. Presumption." Eirian seated herself gracefully on a rock and crossed her legs. She was even moving differently than she usually did – with the kind of fluid strength usually only seen in seasoned fighters. "That's an interesting choice of words, Pup." The black eyes caught and held Tara's.

The warrior's mouth was dry, but she refused to show any fear. "Pup?" Her sandy brows lowered. "No one's called me that since I was too small to bloody noses."

An enigmatic smile twitched Eirian's lips. _No. It's not Eirian. It's…someone else. Something else._ Tara's palms felt clammy. "True. You've not been a pup for many years, Tara. You…are all wolf." There was a pause. "But yes. In answer to your question, I am the Morrigan."

Tara's eyes narrowed as she searched the face of the priestess. Could this be some kind of a trick? She didn't think so. Even if Eirian were an absolutely brilliant actress, nothing Tara had ever seen could change the color of a person's eyes like this. And then, of course, there were the ravens. "All right," she said, her voice clipped. "Then tell me what I have to do so you'll let Epona live."

"Straight to the point, as always," the pale girl murmured. "Or, at least, straight to where you think it is." She folded her hands neatly in her lap and regarded Tara calmly. "But do you know what that point actually is? That's the question."

"I don't have time for this sycophantic bullshit, and neither does my slave," Tara snarled, her temper flaring. "She's sick as hell in there. She's dying. So either tell me you'll help me, or tell me you won't, and then bugger off to wherever it is you've been hiding all my life, because I've got better things to do."

An uneasy rustling went through the dozens of ravens, and one of them let out a loud, harsh croak. The girl's ebony eyes cooled a touch. "Be careful, warrior."

"Or what?" Tara glowered. "If you've been paying any attention at all, you'll already know that girl's my new and only weakness. There's nothing you can do to me that'd be any worse than what's happening right now. So will you make me a deal, or not?"

The Morrigan's human messenger shook her head quietly. "Things are much simpler than you think they are. Simpler, and more complicated."

"Then you won't make me a deal?"

"That isn't how these things work."

"Bullshit." Tara's lip curled.

"It isn't." The ancient eyes peering out of the girl's youthful face gentled. "Tara, I'm not your enemy in this."

The redhead scowled. "Well, you sure as hell aren't my friend," she sneered. "I never saw so much as a hint of you from the day I left Gaelis until now. You've never lifted so much as the end of your finger for me, _Goddess._ How many heads did I harvest for you over the years? And you never once came through for me."

The priestess sighed. "Tara," she said gently, "you're wrong."

"Oh, yeah?" Tara forgot her intimidation, forgot that she was speaking to a very dangerous goddess, and thrust her nose within inches of Eirian's. "Name one time you ever did jack for me."

At this, the pale lips smiled. "You cried out for me the day you were beaten and left for dead by the road, for example," the rough voice said. "And I heard you. You lived."

"Lived? What, now you're taking credit for that?" Tara snorted. "Listen, I dragged myself back to that road. I lay there for days before I got rescued. I was bleeding all over the place, half my bones were broken, arrows everywhere…or are you going to pretend like you sent that merchant who dumped me in his cart and hauled me in to town?"

"There is no pretense," the goddess said firmly. "I have no need for lies. It was my hand that sustained your life until you were found and cared for. It was my hand that saved you from being washed overboard in that storm last month. I have watched over you, Tara, whether you could see it or not; and now I'm calling you back to your home, back to Kilkee in Gaelis." She smiled. "It is time at last."

Tara scowled, more shaken than she wanted to admit. "Time for what?" she growled. "And why didn't you just protect me all those times?"

"Because," the hoarse voice replied, "there were things you needed to learn, Pup. There still are. I'm not in the business of coddling my creatures. Even if you don't know me intimately, you know enough to know that." Tara's lip curled. "Would you have wanted that? Would you have wanted someone to simply rescue you whenever you got yourself into trouble?"

This gave Tara pause. She wanted to answer that she would, but…her brows lowered. _But then I'd be exactly what I'd most hate being. I'd be beholden to someone else. I wouldn't have my own strength, my own skills – I'd just be the pet of some goddess._ She eyed the blond girl suspiciously. "Whatever," she muttered. "Maybe you can talk your way out of it, Goddess. But that's beside the point. Are you…will you heal Epona?"

There was a pause. "I created the circle of life," the Morrigan's vessel whispered. "It is the dance of the spheres, the dance between my consort and I."

"Epona doesn't deserve to die like this." Tara's fists and teeth were clenched. "The only thing she ever did to wind up here is catch my eye when she was clapped in irons by a bunch of thugs. She's never hurt anybody in her life. Why should she have to die like a dog in a cave?"

The coal-black eyes were calm. "It's not about deserving things. It never was."

Tara jabbed a finger into Eirian's chest. "You let that girl die," she snarled, "and you will never, ever get anything out of me again. I will never willingly give you so much as a bean for as long as I live, and by the gods, I don't care how fucking powerful you are, I will find a way to make you pay for it. So if you let Epona die, you'd damn well better be sure that you kill me, too!"

With very cool deliberation, Eirian's hand grasped Tara's finger and moved it from her chest. Her grasp was impossibly strong. The ancient black eyes met the warrior's brown ones. "You obviously need some time to calm down, wolf pup," the goddess said coldly. "Maybe I should come back later, once you've learned a little more about self-control and respect."

"No!" Tara blurted as her anger turned to panic. Then, her cheeks flushed with shame at having to beg, the warrior looked away. "No. Please…stay. Help me."

The goddess was quiet for a few long moments. Then that strangely rough voice filled Tara's ears once again. "Take the young one to Aberystwyth. Hurry. If you stay here, she will die." The warrior lifted her eyes again, and found an oddly soft expression on Eirian's face. "And whatever happens, Tara, go home. There you will find what you've been looking for." The ink-black eyes closed. At the same moment, the ravens took to the air in a whirr of feathers! They swirled around the two women for several long moments, their harsh cries filling the air. Then they were gone, their dark forms retreating in every direction.

Once again, there was silence, save for the endless rush and retreat of the waves.


	68. Chapter 68

Tara was no stranger to pushing herself, but even she was beginning to wonder if this time she was pushing too far. She was worn out. The pack on her back felt as if she was carrying at least a small merchant ship, and even Epona's diminutive weight was dragging painfully down on her arms. She paused to eye the anemic sun that was peeping through the woods overhead, and sighed. "Break time," she said. "We'll rest here for a few minutes before we move on."

A heartfelt groan of relief came from behind her as Eirian took her at her word. The young priestess flopped down on the ground, heedless of the wet grass, and let her blond head rest against a nearby stump. Tara found a relatively dry spot under a spreading oak. She sat down cross-legged and propped Epona's body in her lap, drawing the curly head into the bend of her elbow. Green eyes peered at her groggily. Tara gave the slave's hair a rough caress with her free hand. "Hey," she said, unsmiling. "How you doing, little mouse?"

The slave girl blinked slowly. "Cold."

"Aw, damn, kid. I know." Tara sighed and wrapped the girl's cloak more snugly around her huddled form. "I wish there was another way, runt," she said softly. "This is rough for you. But that cave just wouldn't have been enough…especially if I ran out of medicine for you."

Epona closed her eyes. "I know." The words were barely audible.

Tara stroked the hot forehead. "At least you haven't had to cough in a while," she said. "Maybe it'll hold off for a bit now. And I can fix you some of those vapors to breathe again tonight – those help, right?"

"Yeah." Epona's eyes opened a crack. "Gonna cough soon," she murmured. "Saving up strength first."

Concerned, the warrior rested her hand on the side of the slave's face. "If you need to, you should do it now, Epona," she said seriously. "We're stopped anyway. I can help you here." She shrugged out of her pack and looked over her shoulder to where the priestess was. "Eirian! Quit lounging around and dig out my healer's kit," she snapped. "I'm going to need my herbs in a minute." The priestess slowly got to her feet and moved to obey. She'd been very drained after channeling the Morrigan, and hadn't spoken a word since doing so. That suited Tara. The less distraction she had to deal with at the moment, the better.

The redhead laid Epona on her side. The little slave's fingers clutched at her arm, and Tara grasped her head firmly between her hands. "Okay," she said. "Go ahead and cough all you need to." Epona cast a weary, frightened look at her. Then the frail chest expanded deeply; the slave's breath caught, and she began to choke helplessly, her body convulsing. Tara thumped the girl's back, placing her blows with scientific accuracy. The fit of coughing lasted for long minutes. A couple of times, Epona's small hands clutched at the wet grass in panic as she struggled to breathe.

At last, the slave went limp, and her head dropped against the damp earth. Her breath was coming in very slow, shallow, forced gulps. "That's it," Tara said quietly, rubbing the bony little back that she'd been thumping only moments before. "Try to relax. No deep breaths, or you'll cough again."

Eirian extended her hands into Tara's field of vision. The warrior looked to see that the priestess had filled their wooden cup with water, and was holding out the three pouches that contained the herbs Tara had been using to treat the slave. Tara's brow arched, but she didn't comment. She simply took the items with a curt nod. She mixed the medicine with careful hands, and then lifted Epona up so that she could drink it. The little slave swallowed it listlessly.

Tara bent to kiss the top of the curly head. "Good girl," she whispered. "You can rest for a few more minutes, and then we'll go again, all right?" Epona closed her eyes in assent. The warrior gently lifted the trembling little form up off the damp ground and rewrapped the cloak that had been dislodged as the girl had fought for air. Then they just sat there under the trees, resting. Eirian stayed where she was, kneeling beside Tara's pack, and rested as well. None of the three spoke.

They'd been traveling for two days, ever since the Morrigan had spoken through the blond girl. Tara had taken the goddess at her word, packed up their camp immediately, and begun to head north. She'd pressed on for the better part of those two days. Her own body was giving out, she knew – even her bountiful reserves of strength weren't inexhaustible, and she was coming perilously close to the end of them. Her dark eyes rested on the precious bundle in her arms, and she set her jaw. _I don't care if this kills me, damn it! I'm getting Epona to that town, where she at least has a fighting chance of making it._

At last, Tara shrugged back into her pack and got to her feet. She took a moment to settled Epona in her arms. Then, without a word, she turned her face to the northwest and started walking. She heard Eirian's soft footfalls behind her. She was no longer worried about the priestess running off. For reasons she couldn't even begin to fathom, the Celt was stubbornly staying with her. She wondered sometimes if those reasons didn't have to do with revenge for the beating she'd given her. Honestly, at this point, Tara was too tired to worry about that. She was sure that Eirian harbored no ill will toward Epona, and that was the only thing Tara could find the energy to care about.

The encounter with the Morrigan had left Tara shaken. She didn't quite know what to believe. Had the goddess been telling the truth – had she really been watching over Tara, keeping her alive? The warrior couldn't tell. And what was the Morrigan's motive in drawing her back to Kilkee, back to the town Tara hadn't even wanted to think about for more than ten years? Tara doubted there was anybody there who would remember her, and those who did certainly wouldn't welcome her back – she'd been just a waif, a filthy urchin who fought and stole and scratched a life out of the stones of the street. That was why Tara was so insistent on being clean now, as an adult. She hated anything that evoked those old feelings of shame and worthlessness.

And yet, here she was, on her way back. Tara wondered at herself. _Why am I doing this? It isn't just to obey the Morrigan…am I still arrogant enough that I just want to defy her once I get there, and refuse to do whatever it is she wants?_ She chewed her upper lip. _I think that's it. I'm being damn reckless, and I can't just do that anymore. There's too much at stake now._ Tara's brown eyes rested on the little slave. Epona was dozing, her body huddled up in her warm cloak. The flush of fever had brought hectic roses to her cheeks. _I can't just do stupid things that might put her in danger anymore,_ Tara told herself. _Once we get to Aberystwyth and Epona's being taken care of, I need to start thinking about what to do next. Maybe I shouldn't go to Kilkee after all. I've got no idea what the Morrigan has in mind, and the poor little runt's almost been killed a couple of times on this trip already. Maybe I should try to find someplace safer, instead. I owe it to the kid._

But speculating on that was useless right now. Tara had a journey to finish. She set her jaw resolutely and strode through the woods. _If we hurry, we might be able to make it to town by midnight. I don't want the kid to have to spend another night under the stars. She needs warmth and medicine and good, solid food._ She thought of the few coins she had left from her sailing wages, and sighed. _I just hope I've got enough to get what she needs. I'm too damn tired to beat it out of anyone._

The curly head shifted against Tara's body, and Epona gave a few weak coughs. The warrior looked down to find the slave's eyes peering at her. "How long…'til Abi…Aba…" Epona stopped, her lower lip poking out just a bit.

A grin curved Tara's mouth. She couldn't help it – she'd always considered the slave's pout impossibly cute, and even this weak little one had the same effect on her. "Aberystwyth," she said. "You'll like Penparcau, little mouse. The Romusi haven't bothered with it much, so it's still like it was before Britannia got invaded. Lots of Brits and Gaels."

"Yeah?" Epona's eyes were nearly closed, but her lips curved upward a bit. "Story stuff?"

"Sure, you'll get story stuff." The redhead's gaze swept the path ahead, picking her steps carefully and watching for enemies and predators. "If you want to tell stories about Brits and Gaels in Penparcau, that is."

The little slave frowned a bit. "Pen…?"

"That's the name of the town," Tara explained, stepping over the sprawling roots of an oak tree. "Aberystwyth means _'mouth of the river Twyth.'_ Penparcau overlooks where the river meets the sea. I guess Aberystwyth's more the name of the ferry landing itself than the town."

"What's…like?" The slave's words were slightly slurred as she closed her eyes. "Tell me…story."

"What's Penparcau like?" Tara's mind drifted back over the years. "Well, I only spent a couple weeks there, and that was more than ten years ago. But I'll tell you what I remember, all right, squirt? I'll tell you how I got recruited there and wound up on my first real sailing ship." Epona didn't speak, but she gave a soft sigh of contentment. So Tara journeyed stubbornly on toward Aberystwyth, lifting one weary foot after another, and murmured stories to a sick slave who could do little more than listen.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

The flickering of hearth fires was the first sign the exhausted travelers saw of the settlement of Penparcau. The trees had thinned out as they neared the ocean again, and the friendly flames glinting through the leaves were the most welcome sights Tara had seen in a while.

"There it is!" That was Eirian's voice. Tara glanced back at her in mild surprise; those were the first words the priestess had uttered since the Morrigan had spoken through her. Eirian looked tired and dirty. Tara suspected that the blond girl was every bit as happy to see civilization as she was.

Tara grunted. "Yeah. That's it. We'll be there in an hour."

There was a pause. "Warrior?" Eirian's voice was low. "I…think maybe you should put the collar on Epona before we get there."

The redhead stopped short and turned abruptly, leveling a glare at Eirian. "Excuse me?"

Not without a wince, the priestess forged ahead. "Please listen, warrior. Epona has Romusi blood. It's obvious to anyone. And Penparcau is not under Romusi rule…there are many who would kill one like her with pleasure, because of what Romus has done to us here. But if she were to wear your collar, it would be obvious to everyone that she's a slave, and she'd be a lot safer. It would put their minds more at ease."

Tara's brown eyes were frigid. "Right. And this has nothing to do with the fact that I'd have to take that collar off your own neck. Right, priestess?"

Eirian lowered her head. "I know how it must sound," she said quietly. "But you must know that I'm right, warrior. And…I don't want anything to happen to the little one, either," she added, almost in a whisper.

The warrior glowered at her for several long moments. She could see nothing but sincerity in Eirian's pale eyes. Grinding her teeth, Tara looked back at the distant city's lights. _I don't have the bloody time for this. But she's right, and I don't have the strength to fight off a whole town full of barbarian idiots tonight._ "Fine," she snarled. "But you are still my prisoner, Celt. Don't you forget it!" Tara went down on one knee and laid the little slave down on the ground. Epona stirred and grumbled softly, blinking out of her light sleep. "It's okay," Tara said shortly. "Just relax. We're almost to Penparcau, all right?" She gestured at the priestess. "Get down here!" Eirian knelt down compliantly. Pulling a small key from its place on her belt, Tara released the collar around the blond girl's neck.

Then she stopped, gazing down at Epona. The sick girl looked tiny and helpless. Tara knew that Epona hated the collar – she'd hate this, and she was already so miserable – ! The warrior clenched her jaw and took a steadying breath. The hands that had ruthlessly ended countless lives in showers of blood shook as they fastened a band of metal around a slender neck. The slave opened her eyes again. She didn't say anything, but she lifted a pleading look to her mistress and whimpered.

"I know," Tara muttered, shoving the key back into her belt pouch. "I know, little mouse. It's just necessary, okay? You're not being punished." She slid her arms beneath Epona's back and legs. Her muscles ached from supporting the slave's weight for so long, but she settled her against her own body without so much as a flinch. "Come on, runt," she said quietly as she rose to her feet. "We're almost there. I'll be tucking you into a nice, warm bed in an hour. Hang in there."

Epona whimpered again, but she closed her eyes and rested limply in Tara's arms. Even in the moonlight, Tara could tell that her skin was still that sickly color. She cast a dour look at Eirian before setting off again. The priestess followed in silence.

They traveled the remaining distance without speaking. Then, as the outskirts of the town came into view, Tara picked up her pace. Solace lay ahead – the one chance for the deathly sick girl who slept fitfully in her arms. The thought gave her strength. Tara could hear Eirian panting as she struggled to keep up with her, but she didn't slacken her pace.

Penparcau was surrounded by thick, wooden stockade walls. The defenses had grown since Tara had last been there. She supposed that made sense, given that Britannia and Rome were at war now. There were guards at the gates. As the travelers approached, the soldiers brandished long spears. Their eyes glinted in the firelight – that, taken with the fur trim on the cloaks they wore, made them look like two-legged wolves. "Stop where you are!" one of them snarled, in a dialect of Gael that Tara hadn't heard in a long time. "Who are you, and what do you want here?"

Tara paused, then stepped deliberately into the circle of light thrown by the flickering torches. She stayed silent for a moment to let them take her measure. Their eyes took in her Argonian armor and fiery hair. "I am Tara of Kilkee, in Gaelis," she said coldly. "I've been traveling for a while, and now I'm on my way home. My slave is very sick. I need shelter, and a healer."

The guards watched her with narrowed eyes. The one who had spoken let his gaze flick down to Epona; his lip curled. "Romusi." He spat in the dirt in disgust. "Let the filth die. Her ilk already has enough of what's ours."

The redhead looked at him for a long moment. Then she turned and very gently laid the little slave on the ground. She followed that by taking off her pack. Then her dark eyes lifted to Eirian. "Keep an eye on her for a minute," she said. The priestess bowed her head in assent, her pale eyes full of questions. Tara rose back to her feet and faced the two guards. She was very tired, and she wondered whether she would actually be able to win, should this turn into a fight. Tara impatiently pushed aside her momentary weakness and stepped forward until the guards' weapons pointed at her. Then she stopped, her feet braced against the ground, her hands hanging by her sides and slowly clenching and unclenching. "I'm Gael," she growled, her voice very low. "I'd much rather we do this amicably. I've got money to pay for what I need. But bear in mind that I do need it, and if I have to take it by force, I will."

The soldiers at the gates snarled at her. "Think we don't see what you're wearing, woman? You'll be some thrall of theirs. You stink of Romus. Take your little whores and be gone if you're wanting to live until morning!"

A surge of hot anger burst through Tara's veins, banishing both exhaustion and any lingering traces of diplomacy. She snarled back and jerked her sword from its sheath, now eager for their blood. "I am no one's thrall! And I'll prove that on both your worthless carcasses!"

"Stand down." The words came from behind Tara, in a voice both clear and cold. The redhead stopped in surprise, her head snapping around to look. Eirian was on her feet. Like a pale flame, she stepped forward, fixing both the astonished guards with an austere and threatening gaze. "Stand down," she said again, with clear authority. "Tara of Gaelis stands here as an agent of the Morrigan, whose priestess I am. Put up your weapons and stand aside, or by the goddess, you'll feel her wrath!"

Tara blinked. Then her gaze moved to the soldiers. They were now hesitating, torn between doubt and disbelief. _Oh, well. Whatever works._ Without a word, Tara reached up to pull down the neck of her armor, displaying the raven tattoo, and gave them a dangerous smile.

They wavered. "How do we know this ain't a trick?" muttered one of them.

Eirian spoke before Tara could. "You may ask for proof from the Morrigan," she said coolly. "But do you want the proof that she'll give you? Ask yourself this." They scowled at her. Tara was staring in disbelief, shocked at the poised, authoritative woman that seemed to have morphed from the quiet, respectful girl she knew. Eirian's expression softened a little. "But as the Morrigan's warrior said, we'd much rather do this amicably. We need shelter and medicine. We have the money to pay you for it. We're not of your clan, but we are of your blood. Would you leave three women out in the cold, and one of them deathly ill?"

The soldiers grumbled. "You women shouldn't be out and about without your menfolk in times like this, anyway," the first one to speak growled. "If my wife did something so stupid, I'd give 'er a good whipping. It's dangerous out there."

Tara recognized this as the capitulation it was. She scooped Epona up carefully and moved past the guards. Then she paused, looking at them over her shoulder, and gave an icy smile. "There isn't anything out there more dangerous than I am," she said. Without another word, she walked into the town. Eirian followed, once more just a quiet, pale shadow on the warrior's heels.

The innkeeper was annoyed at being drawn out of his bed at such a late hour, but he opened the door for them after a little grumbling. He gave Epona a hard look. Tara saw his eye resting on the slave collar. "Need a bed?" he asked gruffly, his eye flicking back to Tara's face. She jerked her head in a curt nod. "Pay up front."

Silently, Tara emptied her coin pouch into his outstretched hand. "I need a bed, hot food, and a healer," she said. "How much of that will this get me?"

He thumbed through the coins and thrust them into his pocket. "It'll get you that for 'bout four days," he said. His gaze moved back to Epona. "We don't want trouble here. Will her people be knockin' at the gates in the morning?"

"Her people are dead," Tara said succinctly. "So will she be, if I don't get what I asked for in a hurry. And then there _will_ be trouble."

The innkeeper scowled, but stepped back and jerked his thumb at a door. "End of the hall," he muttered. "Healer's hut's over by the communal firepit. Send your blond girl over to get 'er if you like. I'll see what we've got by way of vittles."

Tara did not stand on ceremony. She jerked her head in Eirian's direction. "Go bring the healer," she snapped. "I'll do what I can for Epona until you get back." The priestess bowed her head compliantly and headed off to do her bidding. With that, Tara carried the half-conscious slave into the building.

The inn was rustic, with plain, simple cots and rough, clean-smelling linens. Tara laid Epona down on the bed and looked around the small room. The hearth was bare, but there was firewood stacked neatly beside it. Tucking the covers around the slave's fragile form, Tara turned her attention to the fireplace. A few minutes' work produced a cheerfully crackling blaze. Tara hung their cookpot over the flames and filled it with water from one of their skins. Then she went back to kneel beside the low cot. Her rough hand gently cupped the pale face that lay against the pillow.

Epona's eyes opened halfway. She looked dazedly up at her owner. "We…there?"

"Yep. We're there, runt." Tara smiled a bit and brushed her thumb over Epona's cheekbone. "Eirian's getting the town's doctor. We'll get you all fixed up." She examined the girl's face. There was a faint bluish tinge to Epona's lips; Tara's heart lurched. "How you feeling?" she asked quietly, careful not to let her sudden fear leech into her voice.

"Tired." The slave's green eyes, once so bright and full of lively curiosity, now blinked listlessly. "So…tired."

Tara leaned over and kissed Epona's forehead. It burned against her lips. "You can rest soon," she said huskily. "Just stay awake for now, little mouse." Her throat tightened, and she had to stop for a moment. Her callused fingers caressed Epona's face. "Just a little while longer," she whispered.


	69. Chapter 69

The room was very quiet, a haven from the noise of the town outside. Tara yawned lazily and glanced over at the still form on the cot. Epona was still sound asleep, her face pressed into the pillow. Only one flushed cheek was visible, and her mouth was as soft as a child's. She hadn't stirred since the healer had left the night before.

It had been awful. The healer had come soon after their arrival at the inn – a black-haired woman, perhaps a little over forty years old. She'd taken one look at the blue tinge of Epona's lips and had immediately dug out her most powerful expectorants. Tara had expected something like this. She'd employed her own healing skills in moving the little slave until her head and chest were lower than her body, so that gravity could assist in clearing Epona's lungs. Then the medicine was administered. A few minutes later, Epona had started to cough.

This treatment was very dangerous, and Tara had known it. The expectorant could have caused Epona to choke to death before she could clear the phlegm that was slowly suffocating her. But Tara also knew that something had to be done. The bluish tint of Epona's lips bore grim testimony to the fact that she wasn't getting enough air. If they didn't act, the curly-haired girl might well die before morning.

Epona had coughed and choked and gagged, her frail little frame almost convulsing with the effort. Patiently, Tara had held her and thumped her back. The healer had hovered near, occasionally adjusting the angle of Epona's head. It had gone on and on. No sooner did one fit of choking pass than another shook the invalid's form. Three times, Tara had watched helplessly as Epona's body had gone limp – but each time, the sick girl had stirred back to life and fought for breath again. At last, nearly three hours after the ordeal had begun, Epona had finally slumped down, panting. Her skin had returned to something like its normal color. The healer had left about an hour later, after ensuring that Epona was resting comfortably.

The warrior turned away from the window and sat down beside the bed. She and Eirian had slept for a few hours. The priestess was looking much better after having rested and eaten. Tara suspected that she herself could use a bit more of both, but she didn't feel the burning exhaustion she had the day before, and there was time, now. She glanced over to where Eirian was. The blond girl was slumped over in a corner, her cloak spread haphazardly over her knees. She had sat down to mend it, but it looked as if sleep had overwhelmed her in mid-stitch. Tara's lips curved upward slightly. She lowered her eyes to the bed and very gently stroked the soft curls that spilled over Epona's pillow.

The color of the little slave's face was much better. She was still pale, and her cheeks were still rosy with fever, but the ashen gray was gone. Tara lowered her head and laid her ear a few inches from Epona's parted lips. The girl's breathing rasped. The warrior pressed her ear against the frail chest. There was still some rattling in Epona's lungs, but it was a marked improvement over what it had been the day before. Tara closed her eyes in relief and pressed a gentle kiss to Epona's flushed cheek.

"Is she better?" Tara looked up to see Eirian's bleary eyes focused on her.

"A little," the warrior said quietly. "She's still damn sick, and she will be for a while to come. But she's hopefully through the worst of it." Her callused fingers brushed the slave's silky hair again. "At least the poor kid can breathe more easily now."

There was a shuffling, and Eirian made her way across the room. She knelt down at the head of the bed and studied Epona's sleeping face. One of her pale hands traced the curve of the slave's cheek. "She's still feverish," the priestess said softly, her brow creasing. "Are you…are you sure she'll be all right?"

"She will if I have anything to say about it." Tara gave Eirian a cool look.

A long silence followed. Eirian's hand still rested against the little slave's face, and Tara felt an irrational swell of possessiveness. She glowered at the priestess. Uncertainly, the blond girl drew back and folded her hands in her lap. There was a pause. "What did the Morrigan say to you?" Eirian asked quietly. "You still haven't told me, warrior."

Tara cast her a look. "As if you don't know. She was talking out of your mouth, Celt."

"The goddess took over my body," the priestess said. "When that happens, I don't know what's going on. I black out…I don't remember anything about it." She looked down at the sleeping slave. "All I know is what you said – that the Morrigan told you to bring Epona here to Penparcau."

The warrior looked away. She didn't really want to talk about this, but she supposed that she should. After all, the priestess might be able to explain some things that Tara wanted explained. "Well, she said something about Epona's health not being the point, although she wouldn't tell me what the point was," she said. "She refused to make me a deal to heal her. Then she told me a whole lot of bullshit about how she's been keeping me from getting killed all my life. It ended up with her telling me to go to Kilkee, and to bring Epona here. She said if we stayed in the cave, the little scrap would die."

The Celt looked thoughtful. "Why don't you think that the Morrigan could have kept you alive?" she asked. "Is that so difficult to believe?"

"It isn't that I don't think it's possible," Tara said coldly. "I just don't believe she gives enough of a damn about me for it to be true. And even if it is true, I still don't think she gives a damn about me except for what she thinks she can make me do for her. She was keeping her tool useful, and now she wants to use it. That's all."

Eirian considered this seriously for a while. "It doesn't have to be that way," she said quietly. Tara gave her a sharp look, and found the priestess gazing at her, pale face at once serious and compassionate. "I know the goddess," Eirian said. "I don't remember ever having not known her. The Morrigan is cold and ruthless to her enemies, wise and tender to her children, strong and kind to her servants. She is all these things – life in one hand, and death in the other." She met Tara's brown eyes with her own. "I know that she has reasons for everything she does. She sent me to help and serve you. She means you no harm, warrior."

"I don't trust her," Tara snarled, "and I sure as hell don't trust you, _priestess."_

"Why?" Eirian asked softly. "What reason have I given you not to trust me? I've submitted to you from the first, even when you threatened to kill me – even when you hurt me. I've never lifted my hand against you, or against the little one."

"She's older than you are, you know," Tara pointed out waspishly.

Eirian only smiled. It faded back into seriousness at once. "Please tell me, warrior," she said. "What have I done to make you distrust me? Let me apologize for it and make it right." Tara simply looked at her, and Eirian held up her hands in appeal. "Please. The Morrigan told me to help you. If there's something I could be doing and I'm not doing it, tell me."

Tara's lip curled in contempt. "You're her slave."

"Yes, I am. Every fiber of my being belongs to her. I'm her bondslave." The impossibly pale eyes of the priestess met Tara's steadily. "And because of that, I'm also yours, for as long as the goddess instructs me."

The redhead thought back to the confrontation at the gates of Penparcau, when Eirian had stepped forward and commanded the hulking soldiers with all the unconscious authority of a born aristocrat. She narrowed her eyes and studied the priestess in silence, turning everything over in her mind. "How powerful are you?" she demanded suddenly. "If I hadn't been there, and those guards had decided to take a swipe at you, what would you have done?"

The blond girl's brows twitched. "I'd have called on the Morrigan," she said simply. "And she would have done what she saw fit."

"What does that entail?" Tara asked curiously. "Swarms of crows eating people alive?"

"Perhaps. I don't know. As I've said, warrior, the Morrigan is a goddess. She does as she wills." Eirian shrugged calmly. "Maybe she would have decided she didn't want to defend me, too. I'm her servant, not the other way around."

Tara was intrigued, despite herself. She hugged her knees to her chest and cocked her head. "Have you ever done it before? Called on the Morrigan, I mean?" The blond Celt gave a silent nod. "What happened then? What made you call her?" Tara wanted to know. "Did she actually strike someone down, or what?"

Eirian was silent for a while. "It was about two weeks before I met you, warrior," she said. "I was already in Gaul, and heading southwest to the beach where the goddess told me I'd find you. I traveled at night…even if I went at the bidding of the Morrigan, I didn't want to take unnecessary risks by showing myself in broad daylight." Tara nodded her understanding. "I was walking through the woods. It was nearly morning, and I'd traveled hard that night, so I was tired. I suppose I wasn't paying attention to where I was going. Suddenly, I came through some bushes and almost stepped right into a campfire."

"Oo." Tara winced. "I assume it wasn't some family heading home from the market."

"No. It was a camp of highwaymen," Eirian said quietly. "They looked like they thought it was early Yule when they saw me. I tried to just back away and keep walking, but a couple of them caught me before I could think about running. They said they wanted to add me to their collection of 'camp women.' I told them I was a priestess of the Morrigan, but I guess they thought I was lying."

Tara's brows knit. "They didn't see your tattoo?"

"I wasn't exactly walking around shirtless, warrior." Eirian's gray eyes twinkled in faint amusement. "Anyway, they dragged me over to this group of three women who were chained up, and they were going to shackle me. I warned them a couple of times, but they didn't listen. They got a cuff around my wrist. I called on the goddess." She paused. "The two men who were chaining me fell dead."

"Really?" Tara's eyes widened. She'd lived a long time, and seen many incredible things, but she'd never seen someone struck dead by sheer supernatural power. "What, they just keeled over? No lightning bolts, or whatever?"

Eirian shook her head. "They just fell." Her expression was cool and distant. "I turned to the rest of them, held out my chained arm, and asked them nicely to take it off and let me go. One of them came at me with a mace. He fell dead about five yards from me. Then a whole flock of ravens came out of nowhere and started scavenging the bodies, right then and there." Her pale lips curved into an austere smile. "They let me go."

"I just bet." The warrior regarded her gravely. "A flock of ravens came when the Morrigan possessed you. I don't know if I mentioned that. They were all over the cliff and the beach…I don't know how many."

The priestess merely nodded, without surprise. "Ravens are her creatures," she said quietly. "They often gather where she manifests."

Tara studied the blond girl again. "What does she want with me, Eirian?"

"She didn't tell me," Eirian said. "She told me to serve you, and I am. Once Epona's better, we can go to Kilkee and find out."

"I'm not going." Tara turned her attention back to the girl in the bed. Her fingers began to slip through the mop of dark curls that lay against the pillow. She could feel Eirian's silent shock and disapproval. "I'm not," she said again. "I've finally found someone worth giving my life for. Epona needs protection. And after everything I've put her through, I owe her that. I'm not dragging the little scrap into whatever dangerous mess the Morrigan has in mind for me. She doesn't deserve that."

"You have a responsibility to fulfill the vow you made, warrior," Eirian said sternly. "No one forced you to take it. No one made you take her mark. The goddess made you and shaped you, and now you owe her your obedience."

"I don't owe her jack," Tara growled.

"You do. She's your goddess."

"She's _your_ goddess," the warrior said menacingly, her dark eyes beginning to flash. "I'm no one's slave, and I obey no one. The only person I give two rips about anymore is right here." Tara's hand closed softly on one of the little slave's. "Epona loves me, damn it…the gods only know why fate dealt her that hand. But as long as she does, I'm going to make bloody sure that she isn't destroyed by it."

Eirian looked grim. "That may be exactly what you're condemning her to," she said. "The Morrigan knows what the little one is to you. If you refuse to do the bidding of the goddess, what's to stop her from harming Epona?"

Without warning, Tara's body erupted from its casual position, lunging forward. Her sleek, powerful form exploded through the air, like that of a striking panther; one hand caught Eirian by the throat, while the other struck hard in the center of the Celt's chest, throwing her backward. An instant later, Eirian was flat on her back, sprawled on the floor on the other side of the room. She stared up at Tara in shock, her mouth gaping as the warrior's solid weight crushed down on her throat.

The redhead glared down at her, seething, her breath hissing between her clenched teeth as she struggled to control her rage. Her powerful hand shook around the neck of the priestess. She wanted to bear down – to grab and twist until she felt the dull, moist crack of breaking bones. For several long moments, there was silence, broken only by Eirian's faint choking. At last, with a shuddering snarl, Tara forced her hand to relax. Eirian gulped in several deep, sobbing breaths. "Don't...you…_ever_…threaten Epona," Tara hissed. "If anything ever happens to her, then you'll be the next to die, no matter how many gods you have in your back pocket, you wet-nosed little bitch. Do I make myself perfectly clear?"

The blond girl was still gasping for breath. "I…wasn't," she panted. "I didn't mean…"

She choked as Tara's hand tightened again. "Don't insult my intelligence," Tara said coldly. "You just said I had to obey the Morrigan or she'd kill my slave. Now, let's try this again. If either you or your fucking goddess harms so much as a hair on Epona's head, I'll kill you. _Do you understand?"_

"Yes! Yes. I understand, warrior." Eirian's eyes were wide with fear. Her white fingers curved around Tara's wrist, but made no move to try to dislodge the warrior's hand. Tara's lips curved into a cold smile as she silently commended the Celt's wisdom. "Please believe me. I'd never willingly hurt her, warrior. She's precious to you…I know that. It's the truth."

"That remains to be seen." Tara gave her victim one last jerk, like a wolf shaking its prey, and then released her. "Just you watch yourself, priestess."

A soft murmur from the bed attracted the angry warrior's attention. The aggression fell from Tara like a cloak; in a heartbeat, she was kneeling at the bedside. She captured a small hand that was stirring against the blanket. _"Beag luch,"_ she said softly, her eyes softening as they searched the slave's sleepy face. "How are you feeling?"

Epona peered groggily at her, and then gave a weak smile. "Kinda tired," she whispered, "but I can breathe better."

That was the most complete sentence Tara had heard the girl speak in days, and it had been spoken without gasping pauses. The redhead smiled encouragingly. "You sound better," she said. "Your face is the right color now, anyway. That's good to see, runt." She stroked a warm cheek. "You had me a little worried last night."

Green eyes blinked in exhausted humor. "Last night sucked," the slave said succinctly.

"Yeah." Tara grinned a bit. "Sorry this vacation started out so lousy. It'll all be palaces and fine wine from now on, I promise." She bent down and kissed Epona's cheek. She savored the feeling of the soft skin against her lips – had things gone differently, Tara knew she could have lost the opportunity to do this ever again. "Are you hungry?" she asked. "I can go beat up the innkeeper until he agrees to give us some soup."

The slave's body shook a bit as she giggled feebly. "Soup would be nice." Her slim hand stroked the side of Tara's face. "But don't beat him up, please, Tara."

The warrior gave a mock scowl. "Oh, all right." She looked over to where Eirian was. The priestess was sitting huddled against the wall, her hands rubbing at her bruised throat. Her gray eyes were still wary. "Hey, Celt. Go see if you can get some soup," she said. "And you'll be tasting it first, so don't get any ideas." Eirian got up and left without a word.

Although Epona was sleepy, she didn't miss the tension in the air. She looked at her owner with a troubled frown. "What happened?"

"Eirian and I had a disagreement," Tara said calmly. "Don't worry about it, squirt. We came to an understanding."

"Did you?" Epona coughed a few times before fixing Tara with another worried look. "Are you fighting with each other?" The warrior said nothing, and the little slave's lip quivered. "You're not going to hurt her, are you?"

"Relax, little mouse." Tara eased herself up to sit on the bed, and drew the slave's slender form to rest against her chest. Epona nestled herself into her favorite spot, tucking her curly head into the crook of Tara's shoulder. The warrior wasn't wearing her armor; the slave's head burrowed contentedly into the softer material of her tunic. "That's good," Tara murmured, her lips curving irresistibly.

The moss-green eyes peered up at her again. "You won't hurt Eirian, will you?" Tara raised a brow, but Epona persisted. "Please, Tara. She's my friend. Promise you won't hurt her."

Pensively, Tara searched the pleading little face. She didn't like to deny Epona anything anymore, but she couldn't give the promise that the slave had just asked for. _Guess I could tell the runt that Eirian threatened her, but I'd rather not. The poor kid's already sick and afraid – I don't want to make her scared of the Celt, too._ "I can promise that I won't do anything to Eirian that she doesn't deserve," Tara said quietly. "And I can promise that I won't ever hurt her without a damn good reason." Epona's brows lowered, and Tara shook her head. "Sorry, squirt. That's all I can give you."

Epona sighed. "I guess it'll have to do, then." She relaxed in Tara's arms. "I'm really sorry I made all this trouble for you," the slave whispered. "I mean, you had to carry me all this way, and…now you won't be able to go home until I'm better, right? I'm sorry."

"Wasn't your fault, kid," Tara said gruffly. "These things happen sometimes."

"Then you're not mad at me?" the small voice asked hopefully.

"Not even a bit." The warrior played idly with a lock of curly hair, pulling it straight and watching it spring back when she released it. "Take a nap, squirt. I'll wake you when the Celt…erm, when _Eirian_ gets back with the soup."

The slave smiled. She closed her eyes and snuggled blissfully against Tara's body. "Yes, ma'am," she said. "Right away." Tara chuckled softly and moved her arms to support the frail little form. She was content to wait and watch Epona sleep.


	70. Chapter 70

Life had settled down a little, finally. Penparcau was a sleepy town, and its peace was a nice contrast to the urgency and dread that Tara had endured before coming here. Both Eirian and Epona were recovering their respective health; Tara could even feel herself relaxing her constant vigilance somewhat.

She had time to think, now. It was night, and both of the girls were sleeping. Tara leaned her head back against the wall and regarded the room through half-shut eyes. Where was she going to go once Epona was strong enough to travel again? _It's no good sticking around in Britannia,_ she mused. _Romus is making steady inroads here. The place is at war. If we hang around too long, I'll wind up either getting in the middle of some bloody battle, or getting conscripted back into the Romusi army. And neither of those options would be good for the little mouse._ She closed her eyes. _If we caught a boat over to Gael, we'd be out of the fighting, but into a different danger. The Morrigan wants me there. That's got to mean there's some battle or bloodshed that she wants me involved in, and again, I can't keep exposing Epona to things like that. She's almost been killed a few times already._

Scowling to herself, Tara drew her sword and began to sharpen its perfect edge. _Of course, Argonia's out of the question. Too hot to hold me now…Romus is probably the same. I'm too well known. Maybe Gaul…? But they're no friends to Romus, either, and Epona's got unmistakable Romusi blood. Gods._ She inspected her weapon with distracted eyes. _We could go north…catch a ship to the mainland, and head up into the winterlands. I doubt there's enough there for Romus to ever be interested in those realms. Maybe we could find some Norse village that would let us stay. Epona would love to live in a longhouse, I bet. All those ears for her stories, and little blond children for her to play with. And maybe I could learn to be happy up there, too. There would be some fighting for me – and enough physical labor to keep me from going crazy._

The more Tara thought about it, the more the idea appealed to her. She smiled to herself as she sheathed her sword and laid it down. _Great. It's settled. The minute Epona's healthy enough to travel, we'll go._ Her dark eyes moved over to the still figure on the sleeping mat in the corner of the room. _Now, what am I going to do about the priestess?_

On the one hand, Tara knew she could just release the Celt. She didn't really have any reason to keep the girl prisoner. On the other, though, she knew Eirian would be likely to follow them if she did so, and she much preferred to have her in sight as opposed to potentially slinking up on them in the dark. But did she really want to haul the young priestess with them all the way to the winterlands? Tara rubbed her eyes. _Damn her. That girl is way more trouble than she's worth,_ she groused to herself. _I should just take off her head. Then I wouldn't have to bother with her, and I wouldn't have to worry about her sneaking up on us in the night._

…But Epona loves her. The redhead gazed up at the rough rafters overhead. _I could lie to her and tell her that Eirian left to go back to Gael, or some such thing. As much as I'd hate to lie to Epona._ She scratched her jaw. _Could I do it? Could I lie well enough that Epona would believe me? I think I could…especially now that she's sick and bedridden. I could tell them both that Eirian's going away, and then just take the priestess out into the woods and slit her throat. Epona would never know the difference. Then we could just go, and be happy together…_

It was definitely worth considering. Tara bent her long legs lazily, drew the dagger she kept in her right boot, and examined its razor-sharp edge. This implement had been with her through nearly every battle she'd ever fought in. Its wicked point had been buried in countless enemies. It would suffice to drain the life from Eirian's body, she knew. _I think I'll do it,_ Tara decided. _I'll tell them both in the morning that Eirian's leaving. Then I'll take Eirian out into the woods the day after that and kill her. That'll solve that problem, and leave me free to concentrate on keeping Epona safe._ With a smile, the warrior reseated the knife in her boot sheath. Her brown eyes drifted to the bed she was sitting beside.

Epona was sleeping soundly, as she had done for the majority of the time since they had arrived in Penparcau. Tara studied every detail of the relaxed little face, tracing its contours with an almost breathless sense of enjoyment. _I love her. I never even knew what that meant before._ She let her gaze linger on the slave's mouth. She wanted the girl – wanted her with an intensity that almost scared her. It was more than just a physical hunger. It was as if she needed Epona in the same way that she needed oxygen. Slowly, unable to resist the impulse any longer, she leaned over to the bed and pressed her mouth against those kissable lips.

The slave's eyelashes quivered. Tara felt the girl's soft gasp against her lips just before the moss-green eyes opened to peer at her. There was surprise and sleepy desire in them. The look was irresistibly adorable. Tara smirked and placed a kiss on each eyelid before she began to nibble on the side of Epona's neck. She heard the slave murmur softly, and felt a pair of small arms slide up to wrap loosely around her neck. Tara pulled back. Epona's eyes gazed up at her, full of drowsy trust and unutterable love. The warrior soaked it up like a sponge for a moment or two before letting her head drop carefully. Their mouths met again, and Tara's tongue gently pressed into Epona's soft warmth. The little slave moaned, just a tiny sound in the back of her throat.

When their lips parted, Epona smiled. "You woke me up."

"Yep," Tara said unrepentantly. "That I did." She slipped her hands under the blankets and sleeping shirt to find smooth, bare skin. "I got hungry," she said, letting her voice drop into a low, sexy purr.

The curly-haired girl arched her back as Tara's wandering fingers found her breasts. She gasped faintly as her green eyes slid shut. "Oh…that feels so good…"

"Does it?" Tara inquired innocently, her eyes twinkling. She took the soft flesh in her hands and squeezed upward, wringing her slave's breasts firmly in her callused fingers. Epona arched and gasped again, sharply; her arms tightened around her owner's muscled neck. The warrior bent down. Still squeezing and pulling on her slave's sensitive flesh, she took a dark nipple into her mouth and sucked hard. The slender body beneath hers bucked, and she heard Epona utter a low cry. Tara chuckled.

It would have been so easy to continue, but Tara knew the slave was still very weak. She gave two or three more powerful sucks to the delectable bit of flesh; then she backed off, gentling her touch to soft strokes. Epona sighed contentedly when Tara finally moved up onto the bed with her and gathered her up into her arms. "You need to get healthy quicker, _beag luch,"_ she growled, lowering her brows threateningly. "It's stupid that you lie in bed all day long, but I can't make you squeak the way I want to."

Epona's pink lips curved upward. She turned her head so that she could press a warm kiss to Tara's arm. "I miss it, too, ma'am," she murmured. "I'm sorry. I…" Her brow furrowed, and she looked up into Tara's face. "I could make you feel good! I could. I'm feeling a lot better, it wouldn't take much…" She began to stir in the warrior's arms, trying to sit up.

"Ah, ah, ah," Tara reproved, holding the girl in place. "None of that, runty rodent. You're going to rest."

Epona pouted endearingly. One of her soft hands lifted up to caress the side of Tara's face as it hovered over her own. "But I want to make you happy, ma'am," she said softly. "You're my beautiful warrior. I want to give you kisses."

This was as forward as Epona had been since the night she'd insisted on sleeping with Tara after they'd left Drea's camp. Tara thought she liked it. _'My beautiful warrior,' huh? That's a new one._ She smoothed the stray curls back from the slave's worried face and kissed her forehead. It felt slightly warm. "Not while you're still sick and weak," she said firmly. "Until then, you're going to rest and eat and get your strength back." The girl looked bitterly disappointed. Tara sighed, smiled, and relented a bit. "Okay. You really want to kiss me? I'll let you give me one." She lowered her head so that Epona could reach it.

The slave girl promptly put her arms around her neck again and lifted up her mouth. Tara remained passive, letting Epona's lips press against her own. A small pink tongue licked at her lower lip. It was just a gentle touch, but it sent a delicious shiver down the warrior's spine. A low growl of appreciation rumbled in her chest. The slave lay back in her arms after a moment or two. She looked pleased with herself as she gazed up at her owner. "Did you like it, ma'am?" she asked shyly.

"It was good." Tara grinned at her and ruffled her hair. "Now, little mouse – you are going to go back to sleep, and I'm going to watch you do it. Just rest your head here." She tugged Epona's curly head into its spot against her shoulder and lay back, letting the slave's slender form drape over hers. Epona snuggled down into her cozy warrior nest and closed her eyes.

_Every night,_ Tara vowed to herself as she watched over her. _I'm going to make every night like this from now on. Epona will sleep in my bedroll for as long as my sword can keep her safe. This I swear!_

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

It hadn't taken much to take Eirian aside and tell her, calmly and matter-of-factly, that she was no longer welcome to travel with them. Tara had watched the Celt's face closely as she spoke. Eirian hadn't seemed overly surprised, although she had been dismayed. She'd made some attempt to persuade Tara that they should go to Kilkee, as the Morrigan presumably wanted, but the warrior had been adamant. "I want no more part of your goddess, or of you, priestess," she'd said coldly. "I'm taking Epona and finding someplace safe for us. You can stay with us today, but tomorrow you're leaving Penparcau. I'll escort you to the ferry landing myself. I don't care where you go, so long as it isn't anywhere near us."

Eirian had bitten her lip and looked down. "The goddess told me to help you," she'd whispered.

"You did," Tara had responded. "You took care of Epona in that cave. I'm satisfied with that; now I'm sending you away. The Morrigan should be plenty happy with you, so you can go back to your temple and bask in the glory of service, or whatever the hell it is that you do there." The priestess had looked at her soberly, but had offered no further resistance. "Now, we're going back to the inn, and you're going to tell Epona that you're leaving. You tell her it's your idea, understand?"

Now came the difficult part. Tara knew that the little slave was going to be heartbroken at the loss of yet another friend. It made her feel a bit guilty to know that she was inflicting this pain on the girl. _It has to be done,_ she told herself grimly. _The priestess all but threatened her, after all. I have to be rid of her. Once we find a village to live in up north, Epona will have all the friends and family and safety that she needs. This sacrifice will be worth that gain._

They had reached their room. Eirian paused at the door and looked at the warrior. Tara sternly opened it and waited. The Celt sighed. Her eyes were full of sadness and resignation as she slowly turned away and walked toward Epona's bed. Tara had the disquieting impression that the priestess knew what she was planning. She hesitated, then shrugged off the feeling impatiently and headed into the room.

Epona smiled faintly at them as Eirian knelt down by her bedside. She held out her hand; the priestess clasped it gently. "How you feel, Epona?" she asked softly, in her broken Argonian.

"Pretty good." The slave's smile widened a touch. "Just sleepy, now. I'm not coughing too much anymore."

"Is good." Eirian stroked Epona's fingers and hesitated. The slave's brow furrowed after a moment as she sensed the tension. With a sigh, Eirian looked down. "I am going," she said quietly. "Am getting on ship tomorrow, going back to sacred hill of goddess."

Dismay flooded Epona's expressive face. "You're leaving?" Her lip quivered. "But…Eirian, why?"

The priestess sighed again, without raising her eyes. "Work is done," she said. "Goddess tell me to help you, I help. Since you not going to Kilkee, I finished, little one. I go back home." Her voice was very quiet, as if it took an effort to keep it steady.

Epona frowned in bewilderment and looked up at Tara. The pained question in her eyes sent a pang through the warrior's heart. "We're not going to Kilkee anymore? Ma'am, why not? What's happened? What's going on?"

At this, Tara moved forward to stand by the silent priestess. She laid a hand on Epona's forehead. "I want to take you someplace safe, _beag luch,"_ she said gently. "I don't want to drag you into any more battles. I don't want to take you someplace where a war goddess wants to play games with me. We're going somewhere peaceful – a place where we can settle down and live, and you can tell stories and play with babies to your heart's content. That's why we're not going to Kilkee. There's nothing there for either of us."

The warrior could see the conflict in Epona's face – worry battling with the longing for what Tara had just offered her. The redhead smoothed her slave's unruly hair. After a moment or two, Epona's moss-green eyes moved back to the quiet Celt. "But…you don't have to leave us, do you, Eirian?" she pleaded softly. "You could come with us, couldn't you? Why do you have to go?"

"I serve goddess." Eirian lifted her pale eyes to meet the slave's. "Must go to her." Epona started to cry. The priestess leaned forward to hug her, and the little slave's arms wrapped around her in response. Sobs shook Epona's slender form. "I sorry, little one," Eirian whispered. "Will miss you."

The sight of Epona in Eirian's arms made Tara scowl. The warrior folded her arms across her chest. _This is just one more reason to get rid of the damned Celt,_ she thought grimly. _Sooner or later, she'd have made a play for Epona. I can see it developing. Then I'd have had to kill her anyway, and it would've been way more traumatic for the little mouse that way. This is for the best._ Her dark eyes lingered on the sight. _But I'll let them be together today. It'll be a nice memory for Epona to look back on later, and I want her to have lots of those._ She moved over by the fireplace and sat down to wait with a hunter's patience. And for the rest of the afternoon, as Epona and Eirian talked and wept together, they were never free of Tara's dark gaze.


	71. Chapter 71

The night had passed, and now the patch of night sky that peeped in the window of their room was softening. Tara sat on the edge of Epona's bed, watching as Eirian quietly packed up her few things. It didn't take long. The priestess had very little – only the clothes she was wearing, really, and a small bag containing a bit of food. Tara had dressed already. The wolf fur of her cloak felt soft and bristly against her neck. She'd foregone her armor and her sword; the only weapon she was carrying was the wicked little dagger in her boot, which she'd carefully sharpened and polished the night before. Her dark gaze followed as Eirian finished her work. The priestess sat back on her heels and looked up at her quietly. Her pale eyes looked deep and solemn as they peered out from under the hood of her gray cloak. "I'm ready, warrior," she said softly.

Tara grunted. She looked down at the little slave who lay beside her. The sleepy girl had been watching the packing process mournfully. Now she started to sit up. Instinctively, Tara's strong arms moved to support her. Epona extended her hands toward the blond girl. Gracefully, Eirian rose to her feet and moved into the embrace. Tara watched silently as the two girls hugged. There were tears on Epona's cheeks, but she didn't sob the way she had the day before. Eirian stroked the girl's hair gently. "Is okay, Epona," she murmured. "Tara take care of you."

"I don't want you to go," Epona whispered. "Please don't go, Eirian! I'll miss you. I want you to stay. Please."

The priestess closed her eyes and let her head rest against Epona's shoulder. "Wish to stay," she said softly. "Will miss you, Epona. Is sad…but I serve goddess. Is time to go home." She lifted her head to kiss the slave's cheek. "Is okay. Tara with you." Epona uttered a single sob and buried her face into Eirian's cloak. Her skinny arms clung to her. Eirian held her close. "I sorry, Epona," she whispered, kissing the curly head. "I sorry."

After a minute or two, the little slave emerged and peered at her pitifully. "I'll write you letters," she promised. "I'll send them to your temple in Carrick on Shannon. And when we've found a place to live, you can write me back. Okay?"

Eirian looked very sadly up at Tara. "I write," she agreed quietly. "If I can."

_Does she know?_ Tara returned the look with a steely one of her own. The Celt's gaze fell before hers. "I'd better walk you down to the ferry landing now," she said gruffly. "Don't want to miss your boat." Her brown eyes moved to meet Epona's wet green ones. "I'll be back within the hour," she promised. "You rest, little mouse." She carefully laid the girl back on her pillows.

Epona maintained her grasp on Eirian's hand for a moment longer. Then, slowly, she released it and let her arm fall to the bed. The priestess bent over the bed and laid a soft kiss on Epona's cheek. Then she straightened and tucked her bundle under her arm. Tara got up and waited. Silently, Eirian turned and made her way from the room. The warrior stalked after her.

The sky was just barely softening – no one in town was yet stirring. The two women walked through deserted streets, past houses and businesses with dark, empty windows. The sky was overcast, lending an added gloom to the surroundings. Neither of them spoke. Tara kept the priestess slightly ahead of her so that she could keep her in sight. Eirian had shown no signs of trying to bolt or fight back, but the warrior wasn't going to give her the opportunity to do either. Her lips curved grimly.

The guards at the gates gave them a cursory glance. After their rather rocky introduction, Tara and Eirian had become a common sight around Penparcau, and so the soldiers no longer bothered them. Tara was glad of that. She didn't really feel like dealing with truculent guards in addition to everything else this morning. Eirian began to make her way down the slope that led to the ocean's shore. Tara followed closely; the woods soon swallowed them whole.

Tara bided her time. She was fully the hunter now, stalking the prey that walked so helplessly with her. The dagger in her boot felt heavy. She wanted to strike, but she didn't want to risk anyone hearing or seeing anything; she kept her peace for another hundred yards or so. Then she took three quick strides forward and closed her hand around Eirian's upper arm. The girl jumped, and her step faltered. Tara gazed down at her coldly. "Let's go this way, priestess," she said, turning them both southward, toward the thicker woods.

Eirian didn't resist, but Tara felt the girl's muscles grow tense beneath her grasp. The warrior said nothing. They went on in silence for a while. The forest grew denser. Dawn light filtered through the canopy of naked, interlaced branches. After a long time, they came to a small, rocky clearing. It looked like as good a place as any. Tara stopped walking and released her victim. Eirian kept going for ten or fifteen yards more, her steps slow, before she stopped. Her back was to Tara as the warrior stooped down and drew the sharp knife from its place. For a moment, the girl's back quivered. Then she bent, laid her small bundle on the ground, and turned to face Tara. They stood there looking at each other in silence for what felt like a very long time.

Finally, Eirian looked at the dagger in Tara's hand, and then back up at her face. Her pale lips quivered just a bit. "Why?" she asked, her voice sounding weak and brittle on the chilled morning air. "What have I done, warrior?"

"You already know," Tara said coldly. "You're the slave of a goddess who's no friend of mine. You've threatened the well-being of the only person in the world who means anything to me. And if I let you go, you're just going to follow us – I don't want to have to watch my back for agents of the Morrigan who might stab me in my sleep."

The priestess looked up into the woman's cold eyes. Tara could see her victim's growing fear. "Warrior, let me go," she pleaded. "I've done nothing to harm you or the little one in all the time I've been with you. Let me go. I'll leave…I'll go to Gaelis, back to Carrick on Shannon, and you won't see me again. Please."

"No." Tara took a step forward, lifting the blade up from where it hung at her hip. Eirian flinched, and Tara, for some reason, stopped.

There was another pause. "Please," the blond whispered. She looked very young, with her frightened gray eyes and her rounded cheeks. "Warrior…_Tara._ I've done nothing wrong. Don't do this."

Tara studied her in stony silence. Then she drew herself up, letting her arm drop back down to her side. "Turn around." Her words were like an icy wind. Eirian stared at her, and Tara gestured sharply. "Turn around. Now!" Slowly, reluctantly, the Celt turned her back on her. Tara could see the girl's hands clenching into fists at her side, and the twitching of her muscles as she anticipated the warrior's attack. The redhead's lips curved into an aloof smile. "Call on your goddess," she said. "If you were a warrior, I'd give you a weapon and let you try to defend yourself, but you aren't. The Morrigan's your weapon. Call on her, priestess – and then prepare yourself to die."

The teenager's shoulders slumped down. Tara watched as the white-blond head lowered. The morning breeze carried the sound of soft whispering to her ears – she suspected that Eirian was praying as she'd never prayed before. She waited for a few minutes to allow the goddess time to respond. Would the Morrigan do anything, she wondered? Would Eirian turn to her with eyes as black as coal and a voice as rough and powerful as thunder? Or would she simply fall with a severed throat before the blade of the Terror of Gaelis? Tara's dark eyes flicked around the clearing. In a way, she knew it was foolish to even allow Eirian this possibility, but Tara was a warrior with a warrior's sense of honor. She would let the Celt have these few moments, if only to say her prayers and make her peace.

The wind picked up, and the clouds grew angrier. Tara looked up and frowned at the darkening sky. It looked as if it was going to rain soon, and rain hard – maybe even snow. A hard gust blew open her cloak, and she shivered a bit. "That's enough time," she said finally. "I'm sending you to your goddess. Pray that she's kinder to you than she's been to me." Tara strode forward, reaching out her free hand to take hold of the girl's blond hair and yank her head back. Just as her fingers brushed the pale tresses, a blast of wind struck her! She was hurled back a few feet. Tara stumbled and fell with a grunt. The gale was screaming now, whipping the clearing from every direction. The warrior staggered to her feet again, trying to shield her face, but the clouds were thick and black, and she could make out very little. Lightning flashed, then again – in the brief flashes of blinding light, Tara saw the young priestess collapse to the ground. Then there was darkness again.

This was not a natural storm. Tara could see that now. She was standing in the epicenter of a whirlwind of divine wrath. This was the Morrigan's fury unleashed. The thought sent fear and exhilaration rippling down Tara's spine. She braced her feet against the ground and gave a smile that was more a snarl. Even now, she still loved a good fight. "Are you defending your little cub, goddess?" she shouted into the shrieking wind. "Go on, crush me. Strike me down, if you dare!" And she laughed as the wind nearly blew her off her feet. "Is that all you've got? Come on, Morrigan. Show me some real power."

Abruptly, the gale stopped. It was as if a knife had come down and severed it, so complete was the change. The silence echoed in Tara's ears as if it were a sound in itself. She was panting, her body wet with perspiration. Her knuckles whitened around the hilt of her knife. Slowly, her eyes moved to the spot on the ground where Eirian had fallen.

There was light now, although Tara couldn't determine its source. She could see the shapeless lump that was the crumpled body of the priestess. As she watched, it stirred, and then slowly got up. But the form that rose from the ground was not the form that had fallen to it. Tara watched in slow-dawning awe as it unfolded before her. Slim, shaggy legs, like those of a deer – a tall, powerful body – long, glossy, midnight-dark hair – a magnificent rack of antlers sprouting from the noble head. What looked at first like a black cloak revealed itself to be a pair of wings. Then the face turned toward Tara, and the warrior gaped at the luminous power in the now-familiar black eyes.

The redhead inhaled. "Goddess."

The Morrigan gazed at her in silence. Tara had expected furious anger, but the visage that faced her, while severe, held no rage. After a moment, the goddess's lips curved upward slightly. "I'm here to defend my little cub, Tara," she said. "Would you still like me to show you some real power?"

Tara scowled at the unmistakable mockery. "Are you going to strike me down, goddess?" she sneered.

The deity's face shifted. She looked sad. "No, Pup," she said, her voice almost gentle now. "There are two of my cubs in this clearing. I'd like to save them both." The warrior stared at her, struck dumb. The Morrigan's eyes met hers. "Why do you want to destroy my young servant?" she asked simply.

To her intense annoyance, Tara found herself trembling. She didn't seem to have any control over it. "I d-don't want to play these games," she growled. Her jaw was trembling as well, forcing a stutter. "I want to t-take Epona somewhere safe. I want her t-to be happy…n-no more danger and f-fighting and…I want to k-keep her safe. I don't want you hassling m-me, or your s-servants, or…" Her voice trailed off.

The Morrigan moved closer, until they stood inches apart. Tara had to tilt her head back to keep eye contact. Quietly, the goddess took the dagger from the warrior's nerveless hand and examined it. "You understand so little," the Morrigan murmured, running a fingertip along the sharp edge. "The only path to what you want is through what you fear the most." Tara's brow furrowed. Stooping down, the goddess slid the blade into its sheath. She rose again and met Tara's gaze. "Why do you think Epona was given to you, Pup?" she asked gently. "Answer me that."

"Given…?" The redhead's confusion was growing. She hated her own powerlessness, but most of all she hated not knowing the rules to whatever game it was they were now playing.

"Yes." The Morrigan's black eyes glinted a bit. "You don't think it was coincidence that you found each other, do you? I told you that my hand has always been on you. My hand has always been on the little one as well, even though she doesn't consciously know me."

Tara stared at her. "But…Epona's Argonian…Romusi," she protested.

"Is she?" The goddess smiled now, her amusement evident.

"Yes. She'd never even been outside her own village when I took her," Tara said. "She's never been near Gael or Britannia before. How could she be yours?"

"She hasn't been outside Argonia, perhaps," the goddess agreed. "But her grandmother has." The warrior looked at her in bewilderment. The Morrigan laughed a bit and waved aside the subject. "Never mind. That's a greater mystery than what you're ready to take in, Pup. Suffice it to say that Epona is mine, although not as much as you are. Now, answer my question. Why do you think Epona was given to you?"

Tara turned from her confusing, half-formed thoughts to consider this. "I don't know," she muttered. "Probably to teach me something, I guess. I don't really know what."

"Don't you?" The Morrigan's ageless eyes searched hers. "Then let me help you start thinking in the right direction. Is Epona a weakling?"

The warrior's brow furrowed. What kind of a question was that? "No."

"No?" The goddess smiled a bit. "She's very small. She's timid. She's submissive. She's young and inexperienced and innocent. She's prone to getting sick. She can't fight, and she's easily injured. She's sensitive and cries easily. She's completely dependant on you to keep her safe and warm and fed. Are you sure that Epona isn't a weakling, Pup? Isn't she everything that you would consider weakness in yourself?"

Tara was deeply confused. On the one hand, she knew what the goddess was saying was true, but on the other, she knew Epona was no weakling. She just had no idea _why_ she knew it. "No, she…isn't. She's no warrior, but…Epona's tough. She survives. She…" Tara trailed off in frustration, unable to find the words she was looking for.

The Morrigan nodded slowly. "She has great strength," she said quietly. "She was given to you so that you would realize how little you know, Tara. You know nothing of what it means to be a woman – to be feminine."

The redhead sneered. "What, you want to stick me in a dress and have me settle down with some man to make babies, or something?"

"No, Tara. While there is nothing wrong with those things, they aren't for you. And the fact that you even asked that question proves that you know nothing about true beauty, vulnerability or fertility. You, who are so strong yourself, know nothing of true strength. That is why you are so unhappy, Tara. That is what you need to learn." The goddess smiled. "That is why you need to go to Kilkee."

"What's in Kilkee?" Tara demanded. "Are you going to tell me to kill someone there? Or get Eirian to sacrifice me on some altar? What?"

"You'll see when you get there," the Morrigan said patiently. "For now, try to learn from the little one as much as you can. The more you learn, the better you'll be prepared for what awaits you in Gael."

Tara's lip curled. "And if I decide to slit the Celt's throat and take Epona to safety instead?"

The goddess was silent for a moment. The faint sadness in her dark eyes deepened. "I do not circumvent my creatures' free will," she said quietly. "You make your own choices, Tara. Just know that you'll never have what you want unless you go to Kilkee."

"I want Epona."

"I know." The goddess was grave.

The warrior clenched her fists and her teeth. "So Eirian wasn't kidding when she threatened my slave, was she? You're actually going to kill her if I don't do what you want, aren't you?"

"No." The Morrigan shook her head, her majestic antlers swaying gracefully. "Epona is my cub, and I would never willingly harm her. The consequences of your actions would be their own. But you will lose the little one, one way or another, if you choose not to go back to Gaelis. That much I can tell you." Tara gritted her teeth even harder. "And Eirian is precious to me. If you harm her, I will be angry – and even you must know that it's far better to have me as an ally than as an enemy." The dark eyes softened then. "You don't need to hate her, Pup. Eirian is kind and courageous. Let her serve you as she serves me, and you will find that she also has much to teach you."

Tara's head slowly lowered in reluctant concession. Then the powerful hands of the goddess rested on her shoulders. She looked up and watched in astonishment as the Morrigan bent to place a tender kiss on her forehead. Those ancient black eyes pierced deeply into her own. "I mean you no harm, Tara of Gaelis," the goddess whispered. "Now go with my blessing. You will find what you seek in Kilkee, where it all began – there on the shores of the untamed sea."

The goddess stepped away. Once more the wind howled, and Tara had to brace herself to keep from being tossed to the turf. She threw her arm over her face to keep flying leaves and debris from stinging her eyes. When at last the gale subsided, the warrior cautiously lowered her hand and looked around.

All was as it had been. The sky, much brighter now that it was later, was still overcast and hinting at rain. There was no sign of the storm that had so recently raged in the clearing. Shaking a little, Tara looked down at the ground. Eirian was lying there with her eyes closed, looking all but dead in the grass.

After a moment or two, the priestess began to stir. She twitched, moaned, and curled into a fetal position, her hands clutching at both sides of her head. Tara stared at her. She thought about the dagger in her boot. Then, with a sigh and a rueful shake of her head, Tara moved forward and knelt down beside the Celt. "Hey," she said gruffly. "Take it easy. You all right, priestess?"

"Ow." Eirian was trembling, and her face was as white as a sheet. She peered up at Tara with glazed eyes, obviously disoriented. "Oh, gods, it hurts…"

"You'll be okay." Tara couldn't help but search for any telltale signs of the goddess that she'd seen, but Eirian's hair was back to its customary white-blond, and there was no trace of the dramatic transformation that she'd undergone only minutes before. "The, uh…Morrigan put in an appearance," she said quietly. "It'll probably take you a while to recover. Try to relax, Celt."

The blond girl stopped moving and lay back. She was breathing hard, like a wounded animal, and staring up at the sky with unseeing eyes. After a while, Eirian blinked a little and looked at Tara again. Her gaze seemed to have cleared a little. "Wait. You…are you not going to kill me, then?"

Tara looked at her calmly. "No. I've reconsidered – for now."

The priestess closed her eyes. "Thank you, warrior," she whispered.

"You're welcome." The redhead eyed her. "Are you ready to try and get up? Don't know about you, but I'd rather not sit here and get rained on. Let's get back to the inn."

"O…okay." With visible effort, Eirian struggled to turn over and pull herself up to her hands and knees. She flinched and hissed through her teeth as she tried to stand. Tara managed to catch her before she fell. "Gods," the Celt moaned. "My legs hurt. It feels like they're broken."

Tara thought back to the deer-like form the Morrigan's lower limbs had taken. "I'm not surprised," she said. "They were twisted into a really different shape a few minutes ago." Eirian looked at her in confusion, and the warrior shrugged. "I'll tell you about it later," she said. "For now, just pipe down and let me carry you. I'm not getting drenched out here waiting for you." She swung Eirian up into her arms. The priestess was longer and heavier than Epona was, but it wasn't too bad. _And at least this time I'm not carrying her for miles,_ Tara thought. She wondered what she was going to tell Epona when they got back. With a sigh of resignation, the warrior turned her steps back the way they had come.


	72. Chapter 72

Epona had been huddled under her blankets, hugging her pillow close and staining it with the occasional tear. She knew that she'd only known Eirian for a few weeks, but she'd grown to love the quiet, good-natured girl. _Every time I find a friend, they go away, or we leave,_ she thought miserably. _I like Tara…she's strong, and pretty, and exciting, and…despite everything, I like her. But is it wrong to want someone else, too? I need more than one person to love._ She sighed and shut her eyes tightly. _Maybe I should just try to stop making friends. Then at least it wouldn't hurt so much anymore when they went away._

Heavy footsteps approached. Epona's head came up – she would have known her owner's tread anywhere. The door opened. The slave started, then stared in confusion and alarm as Tara entered, carrying the unmistakable form of the priestess. "Eirian!" Epona blurted. "Ma'am, what happened?"

Tara glanced at her. Without a word, she moved to the corner where Eirian's bedroll had been set up. With her feet and one hand, she awkwardly unrolled it, and then laid the blond girl on it. "She's not hurt. Just tired. The Morrigan made an appearance," the warrior muttered. She pushed away from the weary priestess, scooped up her seldom-used tobacco pouch and pipe, and strode from the room. "I'll be back in a couple hours." The door slammed.

Bewildered, Epona turned her eyes from the door to where Eirian lay. "Eirian? Are you okay?" she asked softly. "What happened?"

Slowly, the priestess sat up. She rested for a second or two; then she shuffled over beside Epona's bed, dragging her bedroll along with her. Then she settled down on it with a tired sigh. "Not sure," Eirian murmured. "Goddess came – I remember nothing."

The little slave's brows lowered. "Are you not going back to Gaelis, then?"

"Was never going to Gaelis." The Celt paused, then looked up to meet Epona's concerned gaze with her own. "Warrior wanted kill me," she said quietly. "Take me into forest, cut throat."

Horror flooded Epona's breast. She stared at Eirian, wide-eyed."She…what?"

The priestess rested her head against the side of the bed, peering up at Epona in sorrow and affection. She reached out to clasp one of the slave's hands. "I sorry, little one," she whispered. "I lie. Tara tell me lie to you – say I going to Gaelis. I not want you get hurt, and I lie."

The little slave stared at her for a minute or two. Finally, her fingers fluttered in Eirian's palm. "What happened?" She could barely force the words through the tightness of her throat.

Eirian closed her eyes. "Went to forest," she said. "Tara say to pray, then after she kill me. I ask goddess save me." She looked up at Epona again. Her pale eyes were haunted. "I think I faint…I wake up, Tara there. She say she not kill me. Bring me back."

The thought of Tara murdering the gentle young priestess out there in the cold, lonely wilderness made a lump rise in Epona's throat. "Oh, Eirian," she whispered. "You would've died out there alone…she would've just left you." She bit her lip. "You should've told me! I'd have made her stop."

"I sorry, Epona." The Celt's lip quivered.

"It's okay." Epona bent to put her slender arms around Eirian's shoulders. "I'm not mad at you. I'm just so glad she didn't hurt you." The blond rose up to return the hug. The two girls embraced for some time, quietly, neither feeling the need to speak. Finally, Epona pulled back and patted the bed beside her. "Come on. We're both pretty tired, I think, and there's room for two in here," she said shyly. "You should have blankets and pillows, too, not just rugs on the floor."

The priestess looked at her uncertainly. "You sure, Epona?" she asked. "Tara be angry…she hurt me…"

"She won't." The little slave's face hardened in resolve. "I won't let her." Then, as Eirian hesitated, "Come on, get in. We can rest together until Tara comes back." The blond girl finally nodded, got up, and slipped under the covers with her. Epona pulled her into a fierce hug, and felt the priestess reciprocate. It felt good. She could remember how safe and warm she'd felt in the Celt's arms that night, before Tara had stormed in and all but beaten Eirian to death. _This is good,_ she thought drowsily. _I like it. I'm going to do it more often, and Tara's going to let me._ Pillowing her head on Eirian's arm, the little slave closed her eyes and slept.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Tara leaned against the doorjamb, her tobacco pouch hanging from her fingers as she surveyed the room. She'd spent the last hour just sitting on the front steps of the inn, smoking half of her precious tobacco. It hadn't done much to calm her. She kept replaying her conversation with the goddess in her mind – analyzing, turning syllables inside out, trying to find clues as to what might await her in Gaelis. She'd had no luck. She hadn't expected any, really, but that didn't stop her from trying.

Her dark eyes rested on the bed. Epona and Eirian were lying there in each other's arms, sleeping quietly. Black curls and white-blond straw mingled on the pillow. The priestess was sleeping the dead sleep of exhaustion, but Tara could see the lines of tension on the little slave's face from where she stood. Epona would be angry, she knew, and bitterly disappointed. Tara sighed and rubbed her eyes. _Well, I've messed this up beyond all repair,_ she thought bitterly. _Pissed off a goddess, hurt the little mouse, got roped into doing just what I did all this to avoid doing in the first place. Way to go, Terror._

She couldn't even find it in herself to be angry that the priestess and Epona were sleeping together. She had a feeling that Epona wasn't going to want to be in Tara's bed for a long time, if ever, and at least this way the slave had someone to keep her warm. Tara pushed away from the door almost reluctantly. It was time to examine Epona and give her another dose of medicine to keep her on the mend. She suspected this session wasn't going to be very enjoyable at all.

Gently, Tara laid her hand on Epona's shoulder and shook it, laying her healer's kit down on the floor at the same time. "Epona," she said. The slave screwed her eyes shut and buried her face deeper into her pillow. She saw Epona's arms tighten around Eirian's body. Tara swallowed against the pang this sent through her. "Epona," she said again, her voice hoarse. "It's time to take your dose."

Moss-green eyes blinked open. The little slave looked up at her blankly for a second or two. Then, as consciousness fully returned, the girl's face crumpled into a pout. "You tried to kill Eirian," Epona accused. The warrior bowed her head in assent. "Why?" The slave's voice broke, but it was more in anger than in grief. "Why would you do something so horrible, Tara? What did she ever do to you?"

Tara looked away. "I thought she was a threat," she muttered sullenly.

"A threat to what?" Epona's eyes were blazing green fire, like a spitting cat's. "She's never done anything but good to us. She cooked our food when I was so sick. She's done everything she could for us."

"She threatened you," Tara growled, but still didn't meet the girl's gaze.

Epona blanched for a second, then scowled. "I don't believe that for a second." The warrior's jaw tightened, and she hung her head again. _I don't believe this. The Terror of Gaelis being yelled at by some puny little two-bit slave girl! I…_ Then she caught sight of the furious hurt in Epona's green eyes, and felt a deep sense of loss. Abruptly, her bravado drained away. She knew without doubt that what she wanted – no, _needed_ – from Epona was something she could never drag out of her by force. She'd lost the girl's trust. "Maybe you believe she did, but Eirian would never hurt me. Ever! And just because you're big and strong doesn't mean it's all right for you to just go around murdering people."

Tara's jaw worked. She felt strangely defeated. "I told you when I first took you that I was a killer," she said quietly. There was silence for a few moments. Tara finally cleared her throat. "Look, I just need to take a look at you and give you your medicine," she said. "After that, you don't even have to look at me if you don't want to." Her voice was soft.

The slave gazed at her silently. After a moment or two, she jerked her curly head in a nod and lay back. Tara bent over her and carefully laid her ear on her chest. The rattling in Epona's breathing was fading steadily – she could just barely make it out now. Tara felt the girl's forehead. It was cool and dry under her palm. Without a word, the warrior mixed up a dose of herbs and gave it to her. Epona drank it. Then Tara took back the cup and hesitated. Her desire to touch hadn't left her. She wanted to brush her fingers through the black curls that so fascinated her, or stroke one of Epona's pink cheeks, or kiss that pale, smooth forehead. She restrained herself. "Do you want me to leave you alone?" she asked huskily.

Epona slowly slipped her arms around Eirian's sleeping form and met Tara's gaze. "Yes." The warrior hid the lance of pain that shot through her at this behind an impassive face. _This is what you get, Tara. You were stupid enough to let yourself care about the little runt, and look where it got you. You're whipped._ Without a word, she rose to her feet and started to turn away. A small hand caught at her wrist then, and Tara paused. Epona was frowning. "I want you to make me a promise," the slave said. Tara lifted her brows slightly. "You promised me that you'd never hit me again, and you haven't," Epona said quietly. "I want you to give me another promise just like that one. Swear to me that you'll never hurt Eirian again, ever."

The warrior didn't want to promise any such thing, but the flashing green eyes that were fixed on hers gave no quarter. Tara slowly sank back to her knees by the bed and looked over at the slumbering priestess. Eirian looked so young and inoffensive – it was suddenly hard to remember exactly why she'd felt so threatened by her. Tara reached out a hand and rested it on the Celt's shoulder. Her eyes met Epona's again. "I promise," she said. Her voice sounded strangely hoarse. "I promise, Epona."

"Say it." The little slave's jaw thrust forward just a bit.

Tara bowed her head. "I promise I'll never hurt Eirian again," she whispered. "I'll give her the same protection I give to you."

"All right, then." Epona nodded her head emphatically. Then she turned her face away. It was obvious that she was still furious. Tara slowly withdrew her hand. Then she rose to her feet and moved across the room to the fireplace. Sitting down there, she rested her forearms on her knees and sat in silence.

The morning passed like that. Tara simply sat and watched her two companions sleep. At around noon, Eirian awoke. She got up, careful not to disturb her bedmate, and then stood looking uncertainly at the brooding warrior. Tara glowered, still feeling the sting of Epona's rejection. _Guess I better at least try to be civil,_ she thought bitterly. _The little mouse won't forgive me if I don't._ "Feeling better?" she muttered in Gael.

"A lot better, thank you." The blond girl looked at Epona, and then at Tara. Her pale brow arched, but she didn't comment. "I'm, um…a little hungry, I think. Would you like me to bring up some food, warrior?"

It struck the warrior as remarkable that the priestess was still treating her with respect after the events of that morning. "Yeah," Tara mumbled. She didn't feel like eating herself, but she knew she needed to coax something into Epona. "Maybe bring up something Epona can stomach." The priestess nodded her assent and slipped from the room. Tara hugged her knees and pressed her forehead against them. She felt even worse than she had after she'd beaten Eirian, when Epona had been so upset. The girl had forgiven her then, but would she now? Maybe what Tara had been so afraid of all this time had finally happened – the monster that she was had finally turned Epona away from her. Tara's eyes burned. _Maybe I should just leave,_ she thought miserably. _Maybe I should give Epona to Eirian, since I can't have her anyway…there are worse things that could happen to the kid. They already get along fine, and without me, Epona wouldn't be in danger from the Morrigan anymore. The priestess would keep Epona safe and take care of her. They'd both be way better off without me._

The soft footsteps of the priestess returned. Tara looked up to find Eirian standing on the threshold and carefully balancing a tray. The warrior watched as the Celt moved to her and set down a plate containing a chunk of roasted meat and a small loaf of bread. A cup of strong ale joined it a moment later. "The innkeeper says we're almost out of money," Eirian said softly. "We only have enough to get us supper tonight. We'll have to leave the inn in the morning if we can't come up with more by then."

"Oh." In all the excitement, Tara had honestly forgotten about their financial situation. She gazed down at her food for a moment in silence. _Right. Guess I better stick around until they're properly provided for, anyway. Maybe until I can get them over to Gaelis, so the priestess can get back to Carrick on Shannon._ "Well, I'll just have to go find some work this afternoon, then." There was a pause. "Eirian, would you make sure Epona eats?" Tara asked quietly. "I'm going to go and look for a way to earn our keep." She got up.

Eirian's brow wrinkled. "Aren't you going to eat, warrior?"

Tara shrugged nonchalantly. "Nah. Not hungry." She slung her cloak over her shoulders. "Take care of her. I'll be back by suppertime." With that, the warrior strode through the door and headed out of the inn.


	73. Chapter 73

A light snow was falling. It hadn't had time to really start sticking, but the ground had a faint grayish coating of it, and Tara suspected that everything would be covered in a white blanket by the next day. She glanced around, and then strode forward into the building she'd been considering.

It was hot inside, despite the frosty weather. Tara's brown eyes moved over the place. Horseshoes and plowshares were hung neatly up on pegs on the wall. There was a pile of hilt-less blades in a corner, with a smaller pile of finished weapons beside it. Her gaze lingered on these. _It won't be enough,_ she thought grimly. _I've fought for Romus. These people don't understand what's coming, however much they might hate the Romusi already…_ The warrior sighed. Then she looked up at the anvil, dismissing her gloomy thoughts.

The smith wasn't an overly tall man, but he was massive – barrel-chested, with forearms that were probably thicker than Epona's calves. Tara suspected the Brit might have some northern Celtic ancestry. She watched in silence as he pounded a piece of glowing iron into submission. It was long and thin, and she suspected it was going to join the pile of unfinished swords when it was done. He beat it with his hammer for a minute or two more, and then thrust the hot metal into a nearby bucket. A cloud of steam rose up. Then his dark eyes found hers. His thick beard bristled. "What d'ye want?" he grunted. "Need somethin' repaired?"

She regarded him. "No. I do my own repairs," she said quietly. "I need work. Heard you needed some help."

He lifted a contemptuous brow. "And what makes ye think you can do it, woman?"

_Ah, misogyny. I'd forgotten how much worse it is up here._ Tara's lips curved upward slightly. She lifted her sheathed sword and tossed it in his direction. "I made this. You tell me."

The man caught it. Casting her a suspicious look, he half-drew the blade and inspected it critically. She waited in silence. She knew the weapon was well-made; she'd spent a long time honing her smithing skills before she'd even attempted a weapon, and this one had been her best work. The smith drew the blade completely and sighted along its length. "T'isn't bad," he said grudgingly. He eyed her skeptically. "And ye say ye made this?" She affirmed it with a jerk of her head. The smith slapped the weapon back into its sheath and laid it down. "Let's see yer arms, woman," he growled. Without a word, Tara stepped forward and extended her hands, palms up. She could see his eye lingering on the prominent sinews in her wrists and the hard calluses left by decades of fighting and physical labor.

After a while, Tara lowered her arms. "So," she said, "going to give me a trial?"

"Aye, I s'pose." He handed back her weapon. "Ye can work 'ere 'til night. If ye're decent, I'll pay ye."

She folded her arms. "I need enough to keep me and my slaves fed and housed," she said.

His bushy brows lowered a touch. "Aye. Th' blond an' the little Romusi're yours, ain't they?" Tara nodded. "We'll talk wage once we've seen if ye're any good," he growled. "Now, make yerself useful an' pump the bellows, woman." The redhead set aside her sword and went to do as she was told.

It had been a while since she had worked in an actual smithy. Most of her metalwork consisted of repairing her armor or weapons by a campfire somewhere in the wilderness. As depressed as Tara was, she found the physical effort somewhat comforting. She could forget about slaves and goddesses for a while as she pumped the bellows, or carried heavy scrap, or swept the floor clean of bits of slag and iron filings. She worked hard and silently, which her taciturn employer seemed to appreciate.

As sunset approached, the smith turned to her. "A'right," he muttered. "Ye're not useless, woman."

Tara straightened up and wiped her brow with the back of her hand. She cocked a brow at him. "Thanks," she said dryly. "So do I get paid today, now that we've established that I'm not worthless?"

He snorted. "Aye, I s'pose. Deal's a deal." He dug into a pouch at his waist with his thick fingers and tossed a couple of coins in her direction. Tara caught them with a lazy swipe of her arm. "Come back 'round sunrise, an' I'll 'ave work for ye." He thrust out a meaty hand. "Name's Ackley."

She accepted the handclasp gravely, recognizing it as uncommon respect when offered to a female. "Tara of Kilkee," she said. "I'll be here." He grunted and turned away. Fingering her coins, Tara retrieved her sword and cloak and headed outside.

The cold air was a shock against her sweat-slicked skin. The warrior tugged her cloak more tightly around her shoulders and looked around. There was about two inches of snow on the ground, and more was still falling. It seemed wild and peaceful outside after the constant clamor of the smithy. She took a deep breath and let it out, watching the steam of it rise into the darkening sky. Then, steeling herself inwardly for the tension that lay before her, she headed for the inn.

It didn't take long to hand her earnings over to the innkeeper, collect a tray of food, and make her way to the room she shared with her two companions. Tara stopped outside the door, reluctant to go inside. She closed her eyes. _Come on, Terror. You've faced down entire armies, you can face one angry little curly-haired girl._ She opened the door and stepped inside, closing it softly behind her.

The two girls were sitting on the floor by the cheerfully-blazing fire, playing dice. Tara could see the colorful pebbles they used as counters scattered on the floor between them. Eirian looked up at her with a faint smile; Epona's expression was neutral. "Hey," the warrior said gruffly, setting down the tray on the bed. "Got supper."

"Thank you," the priestess said. "I hungry." She patted Epona's hand. "I get you food, yes?"

"Yeah, thanks." The little slave smiled at Eirian. She looked tired, but she seemed to be handling being out of bed fairly well. Tara studied her with her healer's eye. Epona's complexion was still paler than normal, but the roses in her cheeks weren't the hectic red of fever anymore. She looked thin, and her skinny shoulders were slumped. It would be some time before Epona was really strong enough to travel, Tara judged – and by then it would be the dead of winter. The warrior winced at the thought of slogging through the inevitable storms of that season.

Then Epona's eyes met hers, and Tara quickly looked away at the guarded look she saw in them. She felt tired and filthy after her long afternoon of work, and had no desire to stick around and be glared at. "I'm going to wash," she muttered. "Be back in a bit." She tossed her cloak and sword down in a corner and left again. She was conscious that she was fleeing the little slave's displeasure, and it shamed her. _It's just a bath,_ she told herself, trying to placate her pride. _I'll go face the music again after._

The inn's washing facilities consisted of a barrel of water in a back room the size of a closet. Tara stripped down and, shivering, scrubbed herself with a soaked rag. As cold as it was, it felt good to bathe away the sweat and grit on her skin. She dunked her head in the barrel itself when she was done. There was no soap, but she figured the water would at least get rid of the worst of the dirt. Then she wrung out her Titian tresses, pulled on her clothes over her damp skin, and headed back to her room.

Epona was back in bed with a bowl of soup balanced in her lap. Eirian was mending a woolen stocking; its dark gray color marked it as one of the slave's. The warrior eyed the priestess thoughtfully. _I've never asked her to repair anything, but she does it anyway. Maybe the Morrigan was right…maybe the kid isn't so bad, after all._ She sighed and turned toward the bed. The little slave picked up her bowl and drank without looking at her. With another silent sigh, Tara picked up her healer's kit and moved to kneel by the bed. "Checkup time," she said.

"Okay." Epona lay back and set aside her empty bowl. The redhead listened to the girl's breathing and tested her temperature. "I feel pretty good," Epona murmured. "Getting up was kind of hard, but I think I'm stronger."

"You are," Tara confirmed quietly. "I think after tomorrow you won't need medicine anymore. I'll just give you tonics…it'll just be a matter of time and rest and good food to get you back on your feet after that." She didn't meet Epona's eyes. Her fingers shook just a little as she mixed up the dose to clear the slave's lungs and keep the fever down. "Be careful how much you get up," the warrior said. "I know you feel better, but you're still weak. Pneumonia's bad for relapsing. Don't overdo it." Epona didn't comment. Tara put the cup of herbs into the small hands. Silently, the little slave drank, and then returned the drained cup.

It was painful, this silence – the infrequent, clinical talk instead of their usual banter. She wanted to tease the girl, and watch her blush. She wanted to beg Epona's forgiveness. _You don't deserve forgiveness from anyone, least of all her,_ Tara snarled at herself, remembering the countless times she'd abused her slave. _Don't even think about asking for it. The most you can hope for now is to get her healthy again, and then find her a safe home._ Tara put away her kit. On impulse, she picked up her tobacco pouch. "I'm going to smoke," she mumbled, and left.

The pipe was little comfort. Tara gave up before she had smoked through a single bowl of fragrant leaf. With a sigh, she stubbed it out with her thumb and tucked the implement back into its pouch. _She gave this to me,_ she remembered, gazing down at it. _Epona bought it with the pennies she got for telling stories. She loved me, once._ The redhead caressed the leather with her fingertip. The bittersweet ache of the memory made her eyes sting. _What did the Morrigan say? That if I didn't go to Kilkee, I'd lose Epona one way or another?_ She closed her eyes. _I wonder if she forgot to mention that I'd lose Epona, anyway._

This was too damn depressing. Impatiently, Tara shoved her tobacco pouch into a pocket and got up to go back inside.

Her steps were soft as she moved to the door of their room. She paused just outside it. The door was slightly open, and she could hear the girls' voices inside. Tara couldn't quite bring herself to go in. She stood there silently with her head down, listening.

"…You upset with her." That was Eirian's voice. "She not do again, Epona. She promise, yes? Is warrior. Sword and blood normal. Is what Tara does."

"I know that." Epona sounded impatient. "I wish you'd both stop acting like I'm a child who doesn't understand these things. Yes, soldiers kill. But Tara never turns it off! She just…goes around losing her temper and murdering people. It's not right." The warrior closed her eyes.

"Is not true," Eirian said softly. "She gentle to you. She care for you. She want kill me, protect you. Is not…is not good, but is not only wickedness. Tara love you."

There was a pained sigh. "Does she?" Epona asked mournfully. "I'm not so sure. She's never told me she does. When I told her I loved her, she just pushed me away. She's said she takes care of her property, and…and I think maybe that's all I am to her." Another sigh. "I mean, sometimes it seems like it could be more. She'll look at me, and her eyes are so soft and full of light, and I sometimes thought…" The slave's voice trailed off. "I think I was wrong."

"Is not true," Eirian said again. "Tara say she care for you. She say no one else matter. She kill for you. Is love, yes? Must be."

"I need more than that, Eirian." Epona's voice hardened. "I'm tired of blood and pain and cold and hunger, and…and death. I don't like it."

Tara wanted to collapse there in the hallway. If there had been a way for her to simply wink out of existence at that moment, she would have taken it. She could hear Eirian making some argument or other, but she couldn't even listen. _Well, that's it. You've got it from her own mouth now, Tara. The kid needs what you can't give her._ She pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes until stars swam in her vision. _I guess that settles it. I'll bring them to Gaelis and make sure they get safely to Carrick on Shannon. Then I'll go on to Kilkee alone and face whatever the Morrigan has for me. If the goddess gets me killed, then all the better. I've already blown any chance I might've ever had to redeem myself anyway._ She drew in a long, slow breath. Her inner steel, the hard resolve that had carried her through life until now, came to the surface. She welcomed it. Lifting her head, Tara put out a hand and pushed the door all the way open.

The two girls looked at her, startled. Tara stalked over to their pile of things, carefully put away her tobacco pouch, and straightened to look at them. Eirian looked faintly guilty; Epona just met her gaze in stoic silence. _There's more steel in my timid little mouse than I suspected,_ Tara mused for a moment. "I've made a decision," the warrior said. She paused; neither the Celt nor the slave spoke. "I think my traveling with you two is just too dangerous," Tara went on. "To some extent I can protect you. But maybe I can't protect you against me."

She stopped. Eirian looked startled, but Epona's eyes had narrowed slightly. Tara averted her gaze. "I'm going to stick around until Epona's strong enough to travel," she said quietly. "I'll provide for you both until then. Once Epona can handle it, I'll take you across the water to Gaelis. I'll make sure that you get to Carrick on Shannon." Her brown eyes lifted to find the impossibly pale ones of the priestess. "I'm going to leave Epona with you," she said. "I think you'll take good care of her and give her a good home to live in. I'll go on to Kilkee by myself to face whatever the Morrigan has in mind."

The priestess looked at the slave, then back at Tara. "With me?" she said in Gael, her voice full of astonishment. "With _me?_ Warrior, Epona isn't mine, she's yours. You love her!" While Epona wasn't fully fluent in Gael yet, it was evident that she'd understood the gist of what Eirian had said. The little slave's green eyes were inscrutable as she waited for Tara to respond.

Tara shrugged and sat down. She tugged her armor into her lap to inspect it, more so that she could appear nonchalant than because it needed any attention. "She'd be better off without me," she said. "Less danger. Less chance of toppling into the ocean in the middle of winter. Less chance of some enemy of mine deciding to stick her. And she already likes you." Tara couldn't quite keep the bitterness out of her tone as she spoke this last sentence. She paused. "I'll, um…I'll leave you with whatever money we've got when I go," she said. "Or whatever your sect needs to keep her until winter's over. I won't leave you both stranded." Another pause. "Will you do it, Eirian?"

Slowly, Eirian sat back down, her fingers absently running over a handful of pebbles. She looked at the quiet Epona. Her pale eyes were troubled as they moved back to Tara. "I keep her safe," she said softly, forming the words in Argonian – for Epona's benefit, Tara thought. "But warrior, she not mine."

Finally, Tara couldn't keep herself from looking at the little slave anymore. She dared to turn her eyes toward Epona. The slave girl had hugged her knees to her chest, and was now glaring down at her feet, her jaw noticeably working. Tara swallowed. "You all right with that, little mouse?"

"Why shouldn't I be?" Epona said angrily. "I'm _yours._ It's not like I have a say in what you do with me."

The warrior had no idea what to do with the girl's anger. Normally Tara could throw attitude with the best of them, but she didn't want to snarl at Epona – she wanted to deflect that vitriol, calm it somehow – get back her sweet, smiling little lover. Her insides twisted with pain. "You have a say," Tara said hoarsely. "What…what do you want, Epona?"

The curly-haired girl looked at her. The upset was still present, but there was pain in the sensitive green eyes, and confusion, and – Tara's heart ached – tears. "I don't know," Epona said brokenly. "I just d-don't know anymore."

Tara wanted to go to her and kiss away the tears, but she was the one who'd put them there in the first place. She clenched her fists and turned away. 'I'm tired," she muttered. "Hafta work again in the morning. I'm gonna sleep." She took Eirian's bedroll, spread it out against the wall farthest from the bed, and threw herself down on it. She heard the quiet sounds of her two companions turning in. Then the hush of the night settled over the room. But Tara slept very little, haunted by the image of a pair of anguished, moss-green eyes.


	74. Chapter 74

_This is stupid._ Tara hefted her hammer and pounded hard on a piece of heated iron, beating it into a U shape. Her teeth were clenched as she pitted her strength against that of the metal and forced it to yield. _I'm the master. I own Epona. I own her, damn it…she's my slave, she belongs to me. I shouldn't have to slink around and sleep on the floor just because she's upset._ The next few blows fell especially hard, hammering the glowing iron into shape. She switched tools, punched nail holes through her project, and tossed the finished horseshoe negligently into the nearby water bucket. Then she glanced at the window and sighed. _I wish I could find a way to make her forgive me. I've tried everything I can think of._

The daylight was fading. Tonight marked the end of the second week since they had arrived in Penparcau, and the tenth day since Epona had smiled at her. Tara had spent most of the time working when she could, and brooding when she couldn't. Her awkward attempts to make up with the younger girl had been rebuffed, until at last Tara had stopped trying altogether.

"Day's over, woman," Ackley's voice said gruffly. She looked up to find him offering her wages. "Begone with ye. It's lookin' to snow again."

"Great." Tara took the coins, pocketed one, and palmed the other. She'd been making enough money to start saving a little, and now turned over only half her daily wages to the innkeeper. She intended to have something to give to Eirian and her sect to help them take care of Epona until spring, when food would start growing again.

_It's weird,_ she thought morosely as she trudged through the ankle-high drifts on her way back to the inn. _Even though being near Epona makes both of us miserable now, the thought of leaving her still kills me._ Tara sighed and rubbed her eyes. _It's better this way,_ she told herself. _She'll live longer and happier without me. Besides, it'll be better if I don't have to look at her all the time and think about stuff._

All the rationalizing in the world couldn't cushion Tara from the pain of seeing the little slave. She had to brace herself to avoid wincing.

Epona was sitting cross-legged on the made bed beside Eirian, her inquisitive green eyes fastened on the other girl's hands. The priestess was mending a ripped rag – its numerous stitches showed that it was probably just a teaching aid. "See now?" Eirian was saying. "Straight. Same every time. Pull cloth shut this side, other side look nice, yes?"

"Ooh, I see." Epona's face lit up. Tara felt a sudden lump in her throat. It had been so long since the slave had looked like this – happy, curious, interested in the world around her. Epona extended a delicate finger to touch the stitches. "So if I rip my tunic, I should turn it inside out before I fix it so the seam won't show so much. That's really neat! I wonder why I never thought to…?" The slave's eye found Tara as she spoke, and her voice trailed off in mid-sentence. The warrior felt a second stab of pain as she watched the shutters of reserve fall over Epona's face. In a mere instant, Epona looked like a stranger again.

Eirian looked up, and her pale gray eyes softened in greeting. "Hello, warrior," she said in Gael. "I hope you don't mind my teaching her. Epona told me she's never really done much sewing, except to stitch up wounds."

The redhead scowled and shrugged to cover her pain. "Whatever," she muttered, turning away. "Give the runt whatever skills you want. It's not like it's going to benefit me any. She's yours now, remember?" For a moment, Tara caught a glimpse of wide-open hurt in Epona's face. The sight gave her just a bit of satisfaction. She grimaced to herself as she rummaged through her things for her coin purse and added the new coin to it. Regret flooded her. _Damn it. Damn her._ She took a breath. "Yeah, um…teach Epona whatever you like. The kid's smart. Learns quick."

This awkward attempt at extending an olive branch failed. The little slave wouldn't even look at Tara when she turned back. The warrior cursed herself silently. Eirian looked sad. "Thread almost gone," was all the priestess said, holding up their small spool.

Tara was glad of the excuse to leave. "I'll get some more," she said gruffly, and stuffed her coin purse into a pocket. "See if the innkeeper's got some, or something."

The innkeeper did, indeed, have thread, and Tara managed to replenish their stock at the cost of one of her carefully-hoarded coins. She wished she had an excuse to stay away from their room, but she didn't. With a sigh and a scowl, the warrior clomped her way back to where her companions were waiting. "Here," she muttered, thrusting her purchase at Eirian. "Got black and white. Try not to use it all." Then Tara sat down on her bedroll and pretended to be engrossed in the cleaning and maintenance of equipment that hadn't even been touched that day.

After a while, Epona and Eirian resumed their lesson as if the warrior wasn't even in the room. Tara studied the little slave quietly. Epona was getting stronger by the day. She still slept more than usual, but her breathing had been clear for some time, and the rest and good food was beginning to put some flesh back on her delicate bones. She and Eirian had taken to walking around the town in the afternoons, just so that Epona could get a little exercise. Tara had seen them at it a couple of days ago. It had done her heart good to see the roses that the fresh air had brought to the girl's cheeks. _She'll be all right,_ Tara thought, her lips curving a little into a bittersweet smile. _Another week or two, and she'll be strong enough to travel. I'll do right by her. She won't suffer because of me anymore._ Her vision blurred then. Blinking and angry with herself for her own weakness, Tara applied herself to the inspection of her chain mail.

A gentle touch on her shoulder made her head jerk up a few minutes later. It was Eirian. The blond girl quietly took the armor bits from Tara's fingers and replaced them with a cup of ale and a bowl containing a chunk of bread and some dried fruit. "You should eat, warrior," came the words, in lilting Gael. "You've worked hard, and you didn't have breakfast."

_It used to be Epona who fed me._ The warrior flinched. "I don't need a mother," Tara snarled.

"No, warrior," Eirian said gently. "I'm only your servant." With that, the Celt rose and went back to her pupil, leaving the heartsick redhead to her lonely meal.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

_Fire. Screams of terror. Steel against steel. The smell of blood…_

Tara sat up abruptly, her dark eyes flicking around the room. For a moment she couldn't quite put her finger on what it was that had triggered her internal alarm. Then she heard it again – a distant, fearful cry. Then the blast of a horn, and another, and then alarms were ringing out everywhere. The warrior sprang to her feet. She found her armor by instinct and began to strap it on.

"Wh-what's going on?" That was Epona, her voice sounding tiny and weak in the darkness.

"Dunno," Tara muttered, slapping on her helm and hunting for her shield. "Sounds like we're being attacked."

Eirian was on her feet already, her white-blond head a pale blur against the dark wall behind her. Tara could see that her eyes were wide. "Romus," the priestess whispered. "It must be…the prophecies said the eagle was coming soon…"

The warrior's heart sank. She quickly moved to the window, grabbing her javelin on the way, and peered out. Fire was already flickering on the stockade walls. By its light, she could make out the massed soldiers of Penparcau trying to hold the gap and, beyond them, a glimpse of helms with bottle-brush crests. _Romusi._ Tara felt the blood drain from her face. A mind steeped in decades of battle quickly weighed their options. "Grab your packs. Let's go," she snapped, her decision made.

"Why? Where are we going?" Epona sounded as if she was in tears.

"Just do it!" the warrior snarled, grabbing at her own pack. "Move it, both of you." The two girls quickly obeyed. Tara grabbed them each by the backs of their cloaks and hustled them from the room and out of the inn.

The chaos was growing. The Romusi soldiers had broken through – more fires were blazing now, and Tara could see them chasing down the fleeing Brits. Her hands still firmly clamped on her two charges, the warrior half-dragged them toward the nearest part of the burning stockade walls. Then she let go. "Hold this," she growled, tossing her pack at the bewildered Eirian. The priestess caught it reflexively. Tara took a step back, eyed the blazing wood, and then delivered a vicious kick to one of the wall's supporting stakes. It shuddered under the blow, but held firm. "Damn it," Tara muttered, and kicked it again. Something cracked, but still it held.

"Tara!"

Epona's cry alerted her, and she spun around, her blade whistling from its sheath just in time to catch a Romusi sword meant for her neck. Tara snarled. She plowed her foot into the man's chest – he crumpled under the blow, and her sword relieved him of his head an instant later. "Search him," Tara yelled at the pale-faced slave. "Get his money, and his knife if he's got one." Then she renewed her assault on the wall.

It seemed to take forever, but finally the charred wood gave way beneath Tara's devastating blows, and a three-foot split opened in the stockade wall. She heard shouts. Turning for a moment, she caught sight of four or five Romusi soldiers coming at them, with more not far behind. Panting, the warrior grabbed her pack from Eirian's hands, slung it on her back, and grabbed the girls by their collars. "Come on," she shouted. _"Run!"_ And they ran.

It was very dark. It couldn't have been later than four in the morning, and clouds covered the night sky. Tara silently thanked the gods for her night vision as she half-dragged, half-guided Epona and Eirian down the wooded slope. They were putting some distance between themselves and their pursuers, she noted with relief. _Not that I don't want to fight 'em,_ she thought, _but even I can't take on an entire Romusi army. And I sure as hell can't do it and keep these two safe at the same time._ Her dark eyes glittered as she searched the distant shoreline for her destination.

The three women were panting and drenched with sweat by the time they reached the ocean's shore. As Tara had hoped, the ferry was there, tied up to the abandoned dock. It wasn't a large boat – big enough to carry ten or fifteen people, she judged. "Get in," she barked, quickly making sure that the huge oars were stowed on board, as well as the sails. Eirian and Epona scrambled into the boat without any further urging. Tara sprang in herself, drew her sword, and severed the rope that held the boat to the dock. Then she picked up one of the massive oars. With all her strength, Tara dug it into the ocean floor and began to push out into deeper water.

They weren't quite quick enough in pulling away from the dock. Two of the pursuing Romusi leaped from it and reached the boat. Tare dropped her oar just in time to meet one of them with a boot to the face. He staggered backward, his sword barely missing her arm. Tara spun on her heel and kicked him again, this time in the stomach; the soldier flew backward with a grunt and fell overboard.

The second soldier had gone after the others. Turning, Tara saw the two girls huddled in the stern of the boat. Eirian had armed herself with a stick – Tara wasn't sure when she'd gotten it. Epona was holding a Romusi dagger and shouting something, looking very fierce despite her diminutive size. The warrior knew a moment's fleeting amusement and pride. Then, with a primal yell, Tara rushed the soldier! He just managed to turn in time to see Tara coming at him. An instant later, he was flying through the air after his companion. With a mighty splash, he was gone.

Something whistled past Tara's ear – she knew without looking that the soldiers on the shore were shooting arrows at them. "Get down!" she yelled at the two girls. "Lie on your bellies, and don't get up until I say it's all right." Both of them immediately dropped. Tara struggled to the boat's mast. She knew that they were already too far out for one oar to do much good. With a few skilled tugs, she unfurled the sail and turned it to catch the winter wind. Something stung Tara's arm as she hauled on a rope, but she ignored it and kept going – the sail swung around, billowed in the breeze, and the boat began to pick up speed. Soon the yells of the soldiers were swallowed up in the sounds of the wind and the waves.

Tara waited until she could no longer see the shore. Even then, she waited, straining her ears for any sounds of pursuit. There was nothing. After a few minutes, the warrior felt her pounding heart slowing down, and the adrenaline rush of battle slowly draining. She breathed a little easier. "Okay," she said, glancing back at the boat. "You can get up now."

Epona was down on her face, and Eirian was half on top of her; the priestess had slung her own cloak protectively overtop of the smaller girl. Slowly, they got up. Epona's eyes were wide in her pale face. She moved to within a couple of yards from Tara. The warrior could see her small knuckles quivering as she grasped the sides of the boat. "What about all those people?" the slave asked softly, her voice shaking. "The innkeeper, and…all those poor people…"

The warrior sighed and followed her line of sight. The sky was still dark, and the flames of Penparcau's razing were still visible on the horizon. Tara leaned wearily against the side of the boat and let her head fall forward. She recognized the distressed, pleading tone of the girl's voice – it was the same one Epona had used when she'd begged Tara to save the sailors during the storm. Tara was tired now, and the battle high was about gone; the ache of her abused muscles and various injuries was pushing its way to the forefront. She closed her eyes. _Just one more way I can't be what she needs, I guess._ "They'll die," she said quietly. "I can't stand against all of Romus, little mouse. I'm only one woman."

There was silence for a minute. Then Eirian's hand rested on Tara's arm. "You save us, warrior," she said softly. "Is enough. Thank you."

Tara looked at the hand, and then up at the gentle face of the priestess. She would have given almost anything for Epona to have said that to her, but…this was good, she supposed. Tara let her head drop again. "You're welcome."

"You're hurt." The words were so soft that Tara almost missed them. Her head came up slowly. Then she felt a small hand touch her arm. It stung; Tara winced. Epona peered up at her in concern. "Did we bring the kit?"

For a moment, the unexpected sight and feel of Epona's hand on her skin took away Tara's power of speech. She recovered it with an effort, struggling to look impassive. "Yeah," she managed. "In my pack." A moment later, Tara found herself sitting in the bottom of the boat with her arms resting on her knees, looking on with mingled amusement and frustration as Epona tried to thread a needle in the dim light. "It's not that bad," she muttered. "The arrow just grazed me."

"It's bleeding," Epona said stoutly, "and you always said wounds should be washed and treated right away." The slave turned her attention back to the ticklish operation. After a few more aborted attempts, she managed to thread her needle. Her dainty fingers probed the flesh around the gash on Tara's upper arm. "Okay, hold still." And she started to sew.

It was a strange moment for Tara. On the one hand, the needle piercing her injured flesh hurt – on the other, having the little slave's hands on her skin was divine. The warrior sat and bore the pain in her typical stoic manner. Her dark eyes kept straying to Epona's face, watching the way her mouth scrunched in concentration with each careful stitch, and how she stuck the tip of her tongue out. _Gods, she's adorable,_ Tara thought with a pang. She half wished she'd gashed herself more, if only to stretch out this moment of relative closeness.

"There." Epona sat back on her heels with a look of tolerable pride in her work. "Eirian, do you have the – oh, thank you." As the priestess pressed a bandage into the slave's hand. Epona washed the wound with seawater and bound it up carefully.

The warrior's eyes lifted and met the slave's green ones. There was a long pause. Then Tara couldn't bear it anymore, and she looked down. "Thanks."

"You're welcome." Epona's hand gently patted the bandage. Then she moved away and peered out over the water. The sun was rising now, revealing the gloomy sky and the brooding slate gray of the sea. Epona gazed back toward Penparcau. There was a smudge of smoke on the distant horizon, but that was the only sign of the town where they'd been sleeping only an hour or so earlier. The little slave looked sad. "I guess we really couldn't have done anything."

"No." Tara's voice was hoarse. "I've fought for Romus, and against it. Penparcau's lost." She rubbed the back of her neck. "Britannia's lost."

"We couldn't have tried?" Epona looked at her. There was no accusation in her expression – only wistful sorrow.

Tara nodded. "We could have," she said. "But I promised to protect you, _beag luch._ Didn't think I could do both."

The little slave's eyes were haunted. "Ma'am…you don't mean those people died because of me?"

"No!" Tara rose abruptly to her feet. Epona flinched – then the warrior's hands were cupping her face, and her intense brown eyes were boring into the slave's troubled ones. "Don't ever think that," Tara growled angrily. "Nobody ever dies because of you, all right? Nobody. Ever." She saw the fear in Epona's face, and consciously gentled both her touch and her voice. "No," she said again. "If we'd stayed there, we'd have died along with the rest. That's on the Romusi, not you, little mouse."

Tears were wetting Epona's cheeks now. "If Eirian had d-died, it would've been because of me."

_Oh._ Tara's eyes widened in realization. _Great goddess. The kid wasn't just mad at me, she's…she's been carrying the guilt for what I almost did._ The thought of the peace-loving girl trying to carry such a burden broke Tara's heart all over again. "No. Epona, no. That's not true."

"Yes, it is," the little slave sobbed. "You were gonna kill Eirian because you thought she threatened me."

"I was going to kill her because she was a gigantic pain in my ass," Tara growled. Epona didn't look comforted, and Tara sighed. "Look. You…you're traveling with a death-dealer. The blood I spill is on my own head, and no one else's. None of it's your fault." She stabbed her thumb into the center of her own chest. "I'm the killer. _Me._ Not you."

Epona's lower lip quivered. "I just don't like it when people get hurt."

Tara's callused thumbs gently brushed the moisture from the girl's face. "That means you're normal, little mouse," she said quietly. "You're a normal, good, tenderhearted kid. That's why you shouldn't be forced to travel with someone like me anymore."

More tears spilled down Epona's face at this. Tara felt the little slave's body tense. She half expected to see coolness cloud the sensitive green eyes once more; instead, Epona gave a soft sob and looked up at her brokenly. "M-ma'am, why don't you want me anymore?" she whispered. "Is it because I got mad at you? I couldn't help it."

The warrior stared at her for a long moment. "Epona." She wiped the slave's tears again. "Epona…isn't this what you want? To get away from me, I mean. I thought…I thought you hated me. And I didn't blame you."

Epona's face crumpled. "No, ma'am. I don't." And she dissolved into helpless sobs. Impulsively, Tara released the little slave's face in favor of clasping her in her arms, and she felt the slender form burrow against her own. It felt incredible. The warrior slowly sank to her knees, drawing Epona with her, and cradled her gently. Tara was awed. _I thought I'd lost this forever. Oh, gods…_ She let her face rest against the top of the smaller girl's head.

Epona clung and cried against the smooth metal of her owner's breastplate. Seeing which, Tara carefully pulled a fold of her cloak around and cushioned the girl's face with it. This small tenderness seemed to undo Epona completely, and she wept and held on even harder. The warrior didn't quite dare to kiss the curly head, or whisper comforting words, although she wanted to. Tara simply held her and waited for her to stop crying. It took a while, but finally Epona rested quietly in her arms. Then, very cautiously, Tara dared to kiss one of the slave's damp cheeks. "What do you want, Epona?" she whispered. "Tell me."

The little slave pressed her face into the side of her neck. "I want to stay with you."

Tara's heart lifted and broke in the same moment. "Then you will," she said simply. She hesitated. "You know that means you'll see more…things. Battle stuff. Blood."

"We can talk about that, ma'am." Epona cuddled down into Tara's arms and traced the hammered designs on her breastplate with the tip of one slender finger. "I know you're a warrior. I don't want you to try not to be. You're my hero, after all, right?" Tara couldn't speak. "I just…I guess I wish you would try to think of other ways out of things, sometimes. You know, a war hammer isn't the answer to everything."

The warrior looked down at her with a wistful smile. "You're the talker and the thinker, little mouse. I'm just the big bitch with the sword, remember?"

"You're not, though. You're smart." Epona pressed her hand against Tara's cheek. "You can be sweet. I know you're really a hero inside, ma'am. You're so strong…you could help people who can't fight for themselves. You could protect the weak against the people who want to hurt them. And you'd like to, wouldn't you? You'd like to do good things. I know you would."

Tara searched Epona's face. "I'd try that for about ten minutes," she said quietly. "And then someone would piss me off, and I'd lose my damn temper, and people would die. There goes the whole experiment."

"You can control it," the bard said firmly. "I've seen you do it. You've stopped yourself from beating me a few times since you promised me that you wouldn't anymore. You attacked that tree instead of killing Eirian or me when you were so mad at us that one time." Epona met her gaze. "Tell me I'm wrong." Tara couldn't think of what to say. "Will you try, ma'am? Do it for me."

The redhead's throat tightened. She couldn't deny her beloved little slave anything when she asked like that, but…"Little mouse, it's not that simple," she whispered. "There's a lot of darkness in here." Tara touched a hand against her breastplate. "It's a part of what I am. It's not just temper. I…something in me needs to fight and kill. It loves to spill blood. It's what makes me a monster."

Epona's gaze didn't waver. "Will you try?" she asked again, more softly than before.

Tara felt naked somehow, stripped down to her soul before those beautiful green eyes. She remembered what the Morrigan had told her. _She said I needed to learn from the little mouse. Even if I don't think it'll work…maybe I'll try it her way, just for a while. If nothing else, maybe it'll make her smile for me._ Tara leaned down and kissed the little slave's cheek. "I'll try," she said humbly. "I promise I'll try."

A few minutes later, after Epona had lain down to rest under the warmth of a cloak/blanket borrowed from Tara, the warrior rose up to check their course and the sails. Eirian was sitting at the opposite end of the boat. The priestess had evidently retreated so that Tara and Epona could have their privacy. Her pale eyes followed the warrior until Tara, satisfied that everything was as it should be, finally settled down nearby. "Is everything all right?" the girl asked cautiously, forming the words in Gael.

The warrior glanced at her. She knew the priestess was referring to more than just the state of the boat. "Yeah."

Eirian smiled, her face softening in relief. "Oh, good," she said. "You won't leave her in Carrick on Shannon, then. You'll keep her with you?" Tara shrugged and nodded. "Good. Good. I'm so glad. She belongs with you."

Tara lowered her head. There was silence for a moment. "Hey." The priestess looked at her inquisitively. "Thanks," Tara muttered. "You know, for…taking care of her for me when I couldn't."

Eirian's smile was warm and genuine. "You're welcome," she said softly. The two of them fell silent then, letting the cold winter breeze carry them where it would.


	75. Chapter 75

It felt good to step out of the boat onto dry land again.

The three women had been drifting along the coast of Gael for more than two hours before Tara finally spotted a relatively safe place to go ashore. Gael was not necessarily known for its friendly beaches. Its coastline was full of rocky cliffs and dangerous, swirling currents. Many unwary ships had met their end along it.

Gravel crunched beneath Tara's boots as she gave the boat one last tug, beaching it firmly. She didn't really have any intention of returning for it, but there was no sense in wasting a perfectly good boat. With this task finished, she turned toward her companions. Epona, much refreshed after her nap, was looking around with bright, inquisitive eyes, drinking in every detail of the wild landscape that she could. Eirian…Tara arched a brow in wry amusement. The priestess was kneeling down and, as the warrior watched, kissing the ground. "Missed the old place, did you?" Tara remarked.

Eirian looked up at her with a quiet smile. "I'm home," she said simply.

Although she would never have admitted it, Tara also felt the tug of her native land. The craggy hills that surrounded them held all of the wild beauty that she remembered. She took a deep breath of the winter-chilled air and let it out slowly. She'd never expected to feel good about being here. "Yeah," she muttered. "I guess I am, too."

"Wow." Epona's eyes were wide and shining. "Ma'am, this place is amazing. Is it far to Kilkee? Is all of Gael like this? Does it snow a lot? Oh, look at that tree, it's so weird looking! Are they all like that in Gael? Did you really grow up here?"

"Gods, kid, take a damn breath." The redhead grimaced. "And nope." Tara slung her pack carelessly over her shoulders. "Grew up on the other side of the damn country, runt. We've got a hell of a lot of walking to do." She cocked a brow at Eirian. "You sticking with us, priestess, or do you want us to swing by Carrick on Shannon to drop you off?"

"I'm coming with you." Eirian got up. She smiled at Tara again, her pale eyes still soft with the joy of their homecoming. "I've not yet been released from your service, warrior." She paused, glancing at Epona, and looked hesitantly back at the redhead. "We should probably all speak Gael now," she said. "The Romusi haven't come here yet, but they're no more welcome for all that."

Tara looked at Epona, who was looking worried. "You're probably right," she agreed quietly. "No more speaking Argonian unless we're alone, all right, little mouse? And you'll have to stick by us pretty closely. You remember what we talked about."

The little slave nodded, biting her lip. "Yes." She sighed softly, her brow furrowing in concentration as she formed the not-quite-familiar Gael words. "I will do my best."

"You'll do fine, Epona." Eirian put a comforting arm around her friend's shoulders. "You're a lot better at Gael than I am at Argonian. With a little practice, I'm sure you'll soon be speaking it like a native." Epona nodded again, a bit glumly.

"All right, enough yapping." Tara fixed them both with a stern look. "Unless you both want to spend the night huddled under a tree somewhere, let's get going. I want to get to Eblana before nightfall, and I think we've got four or five hours of walking ahead of us first. Let's move."

Epona perked up immediately. "Oo, this is so exciting!" she gushed, skipping alongside Tara as her owner turned her steps northward. "What's Eblana like? Is it anything like Penparcau? Does it have a wooden wall around it, too? Is it bigger than Penparcau, or smaller? Do you think they have a…" Tara gave a despairing growl and clutched at her ears as if in pain. Eirian only laughed.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

It had been a long and exhausting day. The three travelers had slogged through miles and miles of trackless wilderness. It had begun to rain about half an hour after they'd started out – a cold, relentless mist that had drizzled endlessly, drenching them through to the skin after two hours or so of it. Now the sun was going down, and Tara still hadn't spotted Eblana. She cast a worried look in Epona's direction. The girl was walking quietly beside her. She hadn't spoken one word of complaint, but she looked cold and tired and miserable. _It's not good for her to be tired and wet,_ Tara thought anxiously. _Damn it. If we can't find Eblana soon, I'll have to start looking for some other shelter. She can't be out in this for much longer. If she gets sick again…gods, I don't even want to think about it._ She extended a long arm and rested her hand between Epona's shoulder blades. Her cloak was sopping wet. "Hey. How you doing, rodent?"

The slave looked up at her with weary humor. "Now I know how a drowned rat feels."

Tara's lips curved upward in spite of herself. "Heh." She let her hand fall. "Are you soaked through to your skin?" Epona nodded. "Cold?"

"Yeah." Epona eyed her sheepishly. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't complain…I mean, we're all in the same boat, right?"

"Weren't complaining. I asked." Tara tugged her a bit closer and pressed a palm to the small forehead. There didn't seem to be any fever – but then, as chilly as it was out, it might be hard to detect one. "Keep your eyes peeled for a place to spend the night," she said, including Eirian in the instruction. "If we can't find Eblana, we'll need someplace dry to sleep in. Not sure if I can get a fire going in all this wet." The silent priestess nodded gravely.

They trudged onward. They'd been following the coast all that day, hiking overtop of wild cliffs. There were occasional drifts of soggy snow, but it had mostly been just mud and sharp rocks and thick, dead foliage. Tara hadn't seen anything resembling shelter for at least three hours. She grimaced. _Should I think about building something? If I'm gonna do that, I better start now, before it gets dark. But I hate having the kid out here in the rain all night. It's hard to build anything really watertight._ Tara scratched her ear and looked up at the cloudy sky. She estimated they had maybe an hour before dark, perhaps even less. She took a deep breath before making her decision. "Come on," she said gruffly. "Sooner we find shelter, the better. Watch for caves, or even an overhang."

They walked and walked. Daylight began to fade, and still none of them could lay eyes on a suitable shelter for the night. Tara cursed herself silently as the sky darkened, and the first stars began to appear through the few ragged gaps in the steadily-raining clouds. She was just about to stop and take her charges beneath the naked branches of the trees when Eirian suddenly caught at her arm. "Warrior, look!" she said excitedly, pointing. "Is that Eblana?"

Tara followed Eirian's pointing arm. There was a faint glow to the north. The warrior's spirits lifted. "Could be," she said. "It's firelight, anyway. Let's go, you two. The sooner we get there, the sooner we're warm and dry and fed again." She saw Epona's face visibly light up. She suspected the little slave was suffering more than she was letting on. Tara grimaced and headed toward the light with new resolve.

It was better than she'd hoped. The light was, in fact, the light of the homefires of Eblana, and not the large campfire Tara had half thought it was. The place hadn't changed much in the long years since Tara had passed through it. It was a cozy coastal settlement – a village of fishermen, really, not too unlike the one where she'd grown up. There were no walls around Eblana. It was made up of the huts of fishermen, clustered around a few more permanent, wooden buildings in the middle. At the center of the village was a much larger hut, built of wood and insulated with clay. The communal firepit lay before it, which would have a welcoming bonfire in it during town gatherings. At the moment, it was as cold and dark and wet as everything else.

"This way," Tara said, attracting the attention of her companions, who were looking around curiously. "There's an inn over here." Both girls followed her, perking up at the thought of warmth and food. Tara had to admit that she, too, was looking forward to stripping off her wet clothes and filling her belly with something hot. "Stay close," she said to Epona. "Don't forget to speak Gael when you need to talk, and stay quiet if you don't. Best not to attract attention to yourself." The little slave nodded tiredly. Tara smiled a bit and gave the dripping curls an affectionate ruffle. "Hang in there, kid."

The inn was tiny, and even more rustic than the one in Penparcau. The common room consisted of a large, roughly circular space, large enough to comfortably hold maybe ten people. There were three little tables, with crude but sturdy stools surrounding them in a homey manner. A door on one side led to the kitchens, while another led to a short staircase. Tara paused to sweep the room with a glance. There was a knot of rough-looking men seated at one of the tables. They were burly Gaels with weatherbeaten faces – fishermen, she judged, who had stopped here during a fishing trip. Their eyes followed her with cool suspicion. Tara glanced down at her Argonian breastplate and shield, and grimaced. Well, they could glower all they wanted. Damned if she was going to get rid of her equipment just because some smelly fishmongers didn't like it. "Siddown. Rest," she muttered to her two companions. "I'll go pay the innkeep and get our room." Eirian nodded, took Epona's arm, and headed for the small table farthest from the fishermen. Tara went to knock on the door that opened into the kitchen.

The woman who answered the door was a stout little person with dark blond hair. Her eyes were gray, although not so pale as Eirian's. She looked Tara over, her gaze lingering nervously on the ornate patterns of her breastplate. "Who are you? What do you want?" she asked bluntly. "I want no trouble here."

"Not bringing trouble," Tara grunted. "Tara of Kilkee. My slaves and I need a place for the night and something to eat."

Doubtfully, the woman looked past Tara at the two girls. "The little one's Romusi."

"Argonian," Tara said coldly. "Hardly her fault. Are you giving us a room, or not?"

The innkeeper wavered. She looked from Epona to the well-worn sword at Tara's hip. Then, with a sigh, she wiped her hands on her apron and nodded. "Aye, I suppose. Just keep that one out of sight, if you want her safe," she said. "There are those in these parts who'd just as soon drown her sort like a stray dog."

The warrior's eyes narrowed. She could hear Eirian's voice in the background, but her attention was focused on the innkeeper. Without a word, she reached into her money pouch, found a coin, and slapped it into the woman's hand. "Just let me worry about what's mine," she said. "All you need to worry about is…"

"Stop it! Get your hands off her!" That was Epona's voice, upraised in righteous anger, and speaking in unmistakable Argonian. Tara barely restrained herself from burying her face in her hands in exasperation. She turned quickly.

One of the fishermen had moved over near the two girls, with two of his compatriots not far behind. He was a big man, with shaggy black hair and startlingly blue eyes. He was standing over Eirian's chair. The priestess was cringing there, looking both alarmed and uncomfortable. And well might she be – one of the fisherman's large hands was resting on her shoulder, just above her right breast. He had been laughing. As Tara watched, his expression turned sinister, and his gaze fastened on the indignant-looking slave girl who had just sprung up from her chair. His companions twitched a bit. Tara's well-developed sense of danger knew there were only moments left before there would be violence.

In an instant, Tara was there, and had thrust herself between Epona and the burly Gael fisherman. She found herself snarling like a wolf into his face, her hackles rising. "Is there a problem?" He started and took an inadvertent step backward. Tara smiled, baring her teeth. Her hand deliberately moved to rest on the hilt of her sword "Because it sure looked like you had your hand on my property."

The man drew himself up, looking from Eirian to the heavily-armed woman in front of him. His lip curled, and he stabbed his finger in the direction of Epona. "You're stinkin' up a perfectly good inn with filth, woman," he sneered. "Where's your man? He should be keeping you in line. Or maybe I should?"

_This isn't Argonia. Talk isn't going to do any good._ Tara's dark eyes flicked around as her mind raced. _What can I do to avoid a fight? Epona and Eirian need to be here tonight, warm and fed, and if I kick this guy's ass, we'll get thrown out._ Her jaw tightened suddenly. Abruptly she turned on Epona, her eyes narrowing. "Down on your knees, Romusi," she snapped. The slave stared at her in shock. Tara breathed a silent apology, and then backhanded Epona across the face. She pulled the blow, but Epona's head still snapped to one side with the force of it. _"Kneel!"_ Tara roared. The little slave burst into tears, but did as she was told, dropping to her knees and cringing. Still snarling, Tara turned again and thrust her face within inches of the man's. "That 'filth' belongs to me," she growled. She reached out, grasped Epona's slave collar, and gave it a jerk. The slave sobbed harder. "You're not my kin, and my slaves are not this clan's. I don't owe them to you. So keep your hands off of my property, or I'll cut 'em off."

He glowered for a few tense moments. She could see him weighing her well-used weapons and demeanor against his own brute strength and force of numbers. Tara thought of what Epona had said on the boat, and mentally sighed. _Okay, okay. No warhammers, little mouse._ She took a breath and straightened her back just a bit. "Is this how the clan of Eblana welcomes its countrymen now?" she asked evenly. "Molesting their property and insulting them?"

"No, never. Of course not." That was the innkeeper's voice. She stepped forward and scowled at the man. "You lot promised not to cause trouble when you came in here. Now, am I going to have to call the menfolk in to deal with you? 'Tis a cold night to be spending in the woods nursing your wounds."

The fisherman gave her a surly look, and then his shoulders slumped. "Just like women to break up a good fight," he sneered, and turned away.

Tara breathed easier. She let go of the sobbing girl's slave collar. "Thank you," she said to the blond Gael. "Which room is ours? I'd like to get out of these wet clothes before I eat."

The innkeeper wiped her hands on her apron. She was still plainly upset. "You bring your slaves this way," she said, lowering her voice. "There's a room behind the kitchen that my son sleeps in when he's about these parts. I'll put you up there, away from those ruffians." Tara glanced back, but Eirian had already helped Epona to her feet, and was waiting there with her pale eyes downcast. "This way," the innkeeper said. Tara followed her into the kitchen. Behind her, she could hear her companions following.

The room was a snug little place with a soft-looking pallet and a simple rug on the floor. The innkeeper pointed at the woodpile. "Help yourself to whatever you need to keep warm," she said. "I'll get your supper ready for you, Tara of Kilkee." She hesitated. "I'm sorry about those men," she added softly. "They aren't from here."

Tara bowed her head briefly. "Not your fault."

"Thanks." The woman cast her eye thoughtfully over Eirian and Epona. "Would you like your slaves put up in the stable?"

_Gods, things are different here. I'd forgotten just how different._ Tara shook her head, keeping her expression indifferent. "No. They stay with me," she said. "I'm picky about taking care of my own belongings."

"All right." The innkeeper paused in the doorway. "Supper's in the kitchen whenever you want it, warrior," she said. The door closed behind her.

Eirian was already kneeling in front of the fireplace and arranging wood. Epona huddled near her, still crying softly. She wouldn't look at Tara. The warrior sighed and prepared herself to eat humble pie. "Epona," she said softly, "I'm sorry."

The little slave glowered at her, full of furious hurt. "What did you hit me for?" she sobbed out. "You p-promised you wouldn't d-do that anymore!"

"I know. I know I did, little mouse." Tara knelt down and reached out, but Epona jerked away. The warrior stopped. "I'm sorry," Tara said quietly. "I…tried not to hit you very hard. Those guys were going to jump you, and if I'd started a fight with them, we'd have gotten kicked out."

"What, so you slap me?" Epona cried angrily.

"I had to. Those men had to be convinced you were just my slave, or there'd have been a fight," Tara explained. "And you didn't obey me. If I hadn't punished you, they'd have known something was up." Epona's expression didn't change. Tara sighed and lowered her head. "Look, if you want, you can hit me back," she said.

Epona stopped, startled momentarily out of her anger. "Hit you…back?"

"Sure, if it'll make you feel better." Tara moved a bit closer and patted her own jaw. "Go ahead. Clock me, little mouse. Get it over with, so we can all eat and get some sleep." Epona stared at her in astonishment. The warrior waited. After a moment, the slave clenched her fist and sat up. She pulled back – then she hesitated. Tara simply arched a brow. With a grunt, Epona swung.

The blow connected hard enough to make Tara grimace in pain. She was a little surprised that Epona had done it at all. Tara's jaw, however, was a lot more solid than Epona's fist. The slave let out an anguished yelp and doubled over, cradling her hand against her belly. Tara winced again, this time in sympathy. "Owww," Epona groaned. "That really hurt."

"Let me see." Without thinking, the warrior reached out and took the slender wrist in her hands, drawing it out from Epona's body so she could see it. Tara carefully cupped the slim hand in her own and examined the bruising knuckles. "It's not broken," she said. "We'll soak it in some cold water, and it'll feel better." Her eyes lifted to meet Epona's, and in the same moment she remembered that the slave was probably still upset with her for having hit her earlier. She froze, uncertainly. Should she release the girl's hand, or apologize again, or what?

Epona pouted at her. "It's not fair," she said. "I hit you, and I hurt myself worse than I hurt you. I bet you didn't even feel it."

The humorous side of the situation struck Tara then. She released Epona's hand and chuckled helplessly for a moment. "I'm sorry, little mouse," she said.

"It's not funny!" Epona scowled.

"No. No, it's not. I'm sorry. I'm just so damn tired." Tara's face sobered, and she sighed. "I should've tried to come up with something that didn't involve slapping you. I just wanted you to be in a warm, dry place tonight." She paused. "Listen, you're tired, too. Let me dry you off and feed you and tuck you into that bed," she said quietly. "If you're still mad at me tomorrow, you can hit me again if you like."

The little slave's lower lip poked out. "My cheek still hurts."

Tara's brow creased. She slowly lifted her hand to cup the side of the girl's face that she had slapped earlier, gently probing with her thumb. She saw Epona wince once or twice. The warrior sighed and lowered her head. "I'm sorry, Epona," she said. "I tried not to hit you too hard. I didn't want to hurt you. I just…I didn't know how else to handle it, and there wasn't time to explain to you what I was doing. I didn't mean to make you cry. I'm…I'm sorry if I scared you." She lifted heartsick eyes to meet Epona's. The girl looked wary again. Tara grimaced and lowered her head. _Guess I deserve it._ "Listen, um…would you rather Eirian took care of you tonight?"

"No," Epona said sulkily. "It's your mess, and you should clean it up."

The warrior glanced at Eirian just in time to catch the amusement that flickered across the Celt's face. Tara scowled at her and returned her attention to Epona. _I'm so gods-be-damned whipped._ "Okay," she said. "Then let's get you out of those wet clothes first." In a few minutes, Epona was stripped and tucked into the pallet, her head resting on the pillow. Then, once she and Eirian had changed, Tara took a moment to inspect the fire the priestess had made. It met with her approval. She hung their cloaks and wet clothes near the flames to dry. "All right," she said, rising to her feet. "Eirian and I will go get our supper. We'll bring yours in here, okay, Epona? You rest."

"Okay." The little slave was too tired to manage much more than a halfhearted pout. Tara couldn't help thinking it was cute. She turned away quickly before Epona could read it in her face and get upset again. The priestess followed the warrior from the room and shut the door softly behind them.

The meal was plain, but good – thick porridge, heavy bread spread with sheep's milk cheese and honey, and tankards of beer. Tara sat down at the table and sent Eirian back to their room to eat with Epona, mindful that the innkeeper still thought that both girls were her slaves. _I'll have to talk to the priestess about that,_ Tara mused as she ate. _I didn't exactly plan it. It just sort of happened…simplest way for me to protect them. Gods, this is getting complicated._ She took a long pull at her ale.

The innkeeper leaned over the table to refill Tara's plate. "So you're from Kilkee, warrior?" she said. "We don't get too many of your clan around here. But then, looking at your armor, I don't imagine you've been near home in a while."

Tara glanced at her, taking a bite of bread. "No," she said gruffly. "I haven't."

"Argonian armor and a Romusi slave girl." The innkeeper topped up Tara's mug of beer. "So, was it Argonia, or Romus?"

The warrior munched for a few moments in silence, thinking of how best to answer. "Bit of both," she muttered. "Mostly Argonia. Sailed a lot, all over the place. Hung out in Britannia for a while. Went wherever they'd pay me to swing a blade." She toyed with her porridge spoon. "It's been a while."

"And what brings you back to Gael?"

Tara looked at her coolly, pausing in her eating. "I don't share my life's story with people whose names I don't even know."

The innkeeper nodded promptly and smiled. "I beg your pardon. You're right, that was very rude of me," she said. "I'm Caragh. I run this inn; my husband is the acting reeve of Elbana."

The redhead didn't really feel like talking. _But,_ she sighed to herself, _I have promised Epona I'd try to be nice._ "Ah," she mumbled. "Well, I'm…just heading back to Kilkee out of curiosity, I guess. See what the old place looks like now." She shoveled a spoonful of porridge into her mouth.

"See the family?" Caragh smiled at her.

Cool brown eyes lifted. "No. They're all dead."

"Oh." The innkeeper looked embarrassed. "I'm sorry." Tara merely shrugged and went on eating. Caragh cleared her throat awkwardly. "Well, um…if there's anything you need, warrior, just let me know."

Tara nodded quietly. "I will." She was thankful when the woman bustled back out into the common room. She wanted to finish her meal in peace.

When she returned to her room, Epona was already sound asleep, her curly head half-buried in her pillow. Eirian was rearranging the damp clothes in front of the fire. Tara glanced at the priestess, and then made her way across to the bed. The little slave's cheeks were rosy, but not flushed; it didn't look as if she'd caught a chill. Tara breathed a silent sigh of relief. She bent down and very softly kissed the side of her head. Then she tucked the blanket around the girl's neck and turned to find Eirian's eyes on her.

Eirian smiled gently. "She'll forgive you, warrior."

The redhead looked away. "I hope so."

"I explained a bit about Gael to her," Eirian went on. "How it is with men and women, I mean, and what it means to be a slave here. It's very different from what she's used to. I think she understands better now. She said she'll be careful to obey you in front of other people from now on, so we won't run into that problem anymore."

"Oh. Good." Tara rubbed the back of her neck and looked at Eirian plaintively. "Um, sorry about telling them you're my slave, too. I didn't really think about it. You're, uh…you're not." The blond girl nodded calmly. "We'll need to figure out our stories a bit better from now on, I guess."

The priestess sat back on her heels and folded her hands in her lap. "It might not be such a bad idea for me to travel as your slave for now," she said. "It's not so very far from the truth, anyway. And it would keep you from having to answer some uncomfortable questions, wouldn't it, warrior?" Tara gave her a sideways glance, and then nodded curtly. "Then we'll do that, Mistress." Eirian's gray eyes twinkled a little.

"Okay." Tara looked around, and found that the priestess had already laid out their bedrolls. She felt a warm rush of gratitude. Her dark eyes flicked back to Eirian. "Let's get some sleep," she said. "I think everything else can wait until morning." The priestess nodded her assent. In a few minutes, three tired women lay asleep in the snug back room of the inn.


	76. Chapter 76

Epona was fairly quiet the next morning. Tara decided to leave her alone, opting instead to take care of all the little things that needed to be done before they could leave. Their clothes had dried before the fire. She nodded her approval at this, pressing the thick fabric of her cloak between her fingers. Then the warrior moved over to Epona's hanging clothing, testing it thoroughly for dryness, and checking to see that all the seams were still sound. Only when she was fully satisfied did she sit back and start taking stock of her armor and weapons.

Eirian crouched down nearby. "Warrior, would you like me to bring our breakfast in here for us?"

Tara glanced up. "No," she said, after a moment's consideration. "You can help Epona pack everything up. We'll go and eat after, and then we'll leave. I don't want to lose too much travel time." The priestess inclined her head and got up to comply. Tara continued her minute study of her armor. She tested every hinge, and made sure all of the exposed metal was cleaned and carefully oiled against the damp. Then something brushed her arm and made her look up.

The little slave was picking the extra clothes from their places in front of the fire and packing them neatly away. She didn't look at Tara. The warrior eyed her for a moment, weighing her options, before she drew in her breath. "Sleep all right?" she asked, with forced casualness.

Moss-green eyes slid sideways to meet hers. "It was okay, ma'am," Epona said.

"Good." Tara paused awkwardly. "How's the hand?"

Epona glanced down at her bruised knuckles with a thoughtful look. She flexed them back and forth a few times. "Kind of sore," she said. "But it's all right."

"And your face?" The warrior's voice cracked a bit.

The curly-haired girl chewed her lips for a moment. Finally, she looked up at her owner. Her expression was grave. "Eirian and I talked last night," she said. "She explained to me what you were trying to do, ma'am. I think I understand now. And…I know you didn't hit me as hard as you could. I mean, I've felt that before. I know that wasn't full force." Epona looked down. "It's not bruised," she said. "It mostly just hurt my feelings."

The Gael's jaw muscles worked. "I don't want to hurt you at all."

Epona looked at her. "You broke your promise."

Tara rubbed her eyes. A quiet depression was settling over her insides. "Yeah. I guess I did." She regarded the girl tiredly. "I was trying to protect you. Us." Her head lowered. "Guess I screwed it up, huh?"

The little slave folded Eirian's extra tunic and let it rest on her knees, her hands moving over its soft surface. "Well," she murmured, "I am your slave. You've got the right to hit me if you want to, I guess." Tara looked up, her brows contracting. Epona looked sad. "You can do whatever you want, right? You own me."

The warrior swallowed hard. There was a long pause. "Epona," Tara said finally, "you're…I mean, I guess that I…" She stopped. "Look," she said firmly, annoyed at her own hesitance. "If I hadn't been stupid and had you branded, little mouse, I'd have freed you by now. You're…still my slave, I guess, but…" _Damn it. _The warrior rubbed her face impatiently. "It's my responsibility to take care of you. You know, because of the brand, and it being my fault, and all. It's not…well, not really a slavery thing anymore."

Epona's brow wrinkled in honest perplexity. "What do you mean, ma'am?"

"I don't know." Tara was a little exasperated. "Just…never mind. I'm sorry I hit you. I won't do it again if you be careful to obey me in public, all right?" She waved her hand. "Just…pack up, already."

"Okay." Epona still looked mystified, but she did as she was told. Tara went back to caring for her armor and let the awkwardness dissipate with a sense of relief. _Gods. I don't even know what I was trying to say to her. _She found a link of her chain mail that was coming apart and repaired it, thankful for any work that took her attention off her self-consciousness.

It didn't take long to put together their belongings. Then the three of them went out to the common room to eat their breakfast. It was good – more bread and cheese, with ale tapped from a fresh keg. The fishermen were there, and cast not a few unfriendly looks in Tara's direction, which she met with icy glares of her own. She noticed a couple of puzzled and hostile glances cast in the direction of Eirian and Epona, as well, which confused her a little.

Eirian, seeing this, leaned closer to Tara. "Warrior," she whispered, "have you forgotten that, in Gaelis, slaves usually sit on the floor?"

The redhead's mind flashed back to her childhood. Now that the priestess mentioned it, she thought she could remember seeing that in practice. There hadn't been many slaves in Kilkee, but she'd seen a girl in the tavern once, kneeling like a pet dog at the feet of a merchant. "Oh. Right." Tara sighed and rubbed the back of her neck. "Gods, it's been a long time." She looked at Eirian. "Next place we go, I guess we'll have to do that, then."

"It would probably be safer," Eirian agreed quietly. "Especially for the little one."

"Yeah." Tara glanced at Epona. The little slave met her gaze quietly. The warrior sighed and looked away. "All right. You two go get our things and meet me back here. I'll buy us some trail food from the innkeeper."

In less than half an hour, the travelers were heading out of Eblana with their packs over their shoulders. Tara had bought travel bread and several packets of dried fish, which were now stowed away carefully in their food satchel. The rain had cleared, and she was feeling a little more optimistic. She glanced at Epona. "So, what do you think of Gaelis so far, little mouse?"

The girl looked thoughtful. "It's pretty different from Argonia," she said. "Lots wilder. And the people are pretty different, too." She peered up inquiringly. "Do I really have to sit on the floor now?"

The warrior grimaced. "Yeah. You do," she said. "That's how they do things with slaves here. I just forgot…yeah. Slaves here sit on the floor, and they only get to eat whatever their masters decide to drop for 'em." She watched a furrow form on Epona's brow. Tara smoothed it gently with a callused thumb. "I know it kind of sucks. But don't worry, runt. I won't starve ya," she said gruffly. "I kinda like you."

They walked for a minute or two in silence. "Ma'am?" Epona's solemn eyes peered up at her again. "What did you mean when you said I wasn't really a slave?"

Tara scowled a bit. She'd been hoping that Epona had forgotten about it. "Oh. That." She cleared her throat. "Well, I just meant I'd have freed you by now if I hadn't had you branded. And…well, it's not like I've ever promised a slave I wouldn't hit her before, all right? So you're different."

"Different, how?" Epona asked, with puzzled innocence.

_This is not something I really want to talk about. But I guess I kind of owe her an explanation. _Tara glared at the inoffensive path ahead of them as she tried to formulate an answer. "I give a damn what you think," she muttered. "And I want you happy, not just clean and fed and obedient. So you're different. I don't know, all right? You just are."

"Do you care about me?" Now there was hope in those large, moss-green eyes.

Tara grimaced. She had to struggle with herself for a few moments. "Like I said," she mumbled finally, "I kinda like you." Epona beamed. It was the most radiant smile Tara had ever seen the girl turn in her direction. It was beautiful, and it made Tara acutely uncomfortable. The warrior could feel her cheeks flushing. "Gonna scout the path," she growled, and quickened her pace, leaving Epona and Eirian a few yards behind.

Fortunately for Tara's composure, Epona didn't pursue her. The little slave simply walked along quietly beside the Celt. There was a tiny, wondering smile on her face, Tara noted. The warrior had to admit that it made her feel good – she'd always loved Epona's smiles. _Been a while since I played that game, _she mused. _Maybe I'll start again. I kind of enjoyed it. _Her dark eyes narrowed a bit. _Now, how can I make the little mouse smile some more? Ah – I've got it. _The warrior slowed her pace until she was once again walking near her companions. "Hey, runt, I'm getting bored. Why don't you tell us a story?"

"A story?" Epona's eyes lit up. "Okay," she said shyly. "Any one in particular you'd like, ma'am?"

"Nah," Tara said gruffly. "They're all good. Surprise me."

"I could tell you that one about the wildcat that we never got around to," the little slave said. "You know, the one I was going to tell you the day I fell in the water. It was a special one." Tara nodded her agreement, grinning at the smaller girl. She couldn't help it. There was a light in Epona's face now that made her feel…good. Without thinking, Tara extended a hand and brushed an errant curl back from Epona's cheek. The slave's skin felt soft and warm beneath her fingers. Epona's smile widened. The warrior cleared her throat and turned her attention pointedly back to their path.

There was a moment's pause. Then Eirian slipped an arm around Epona's shoulders and smiled gently. "Tell us your story, Epona," she said.

The little slave started and blushed. "Oh…right." She coughed a bit. Eirian laughed softly and released her. With shy pleasure, Epona looked at her owner. "Once there was a wildcat," she said. "It was very strong and fierce, and all the other woodland creatures were afraid of it."

Tara felt her ears grow warm. _Oh, brother. I bet I know where this is going._ She sighed and kept her gaze focused on their path. "Every day, the wildcat would go hunting and bring down its prey," Epona went on. "There was no animal stronger than it was. Even when other wildcats would come into its territory, the wildcat would drive them away." Tara's lips curved upward. There was a pause as the three women scrambled over a large stone in the path. "One day," Epona continued, "the wildcat was hungry, and it went out to find something to eat. It hunted for a while. And then, in a meadow, it found a rabbit that had its foot caught in a snare."

"Oh, the poor thing." Eirian's brow wrinkled.

Epona nodded. "The wildcat was very happy with its good luck. It got the rabbit out of the snare and carried it back to its den. The rabbit was terrified, because it knew the wildcat was going to kill and eat it." The path grew muddy and steep at this point; Tara instinctively reached out to clasp Epona's hand to steady her. The girl's little paw felt warm and delicate in her palm. "So when they got back to the den," Epona went on, "the rabbit begged for its life. And the wildcat decided to spare and keep it."

The warrior raised a brow. "Why would a wildcat do that?" she wanted to know. "Waste of good meat."

The little slave drew down her brows and pouted at her. "Because the rabbit was soft and pretty, and the wildcat thought it might be fun to have something nice to look at when it got home," she said. "And…I don't know. Maybe the rabbit cleaned its den."

"With its little rabbit broom?" Tara laughed as Epona's lip poked out. Then she squeezed the girl's fingers gently. "Sorry. Go ahead with the story, _beag luch."_

Epona took a moment to pout at her a bit more. Then she continued. "Anyway, so the rabbit lived in the wildcat's den. Every day the wildcat came home and made the rabbit entertain it by dancing or telling it stories. The rabbit missed its family at first, and it was very sad. But after a while, something strange and wonderful started to happen."

"The wildcat started craving rabbit cutlets?" Tara opened her eyes innocently.

The curly-haired girl gave her a disgusted look. "The rabbit started to notice how strong and beautiful the wildcat was," she said. "And how gracefully it moved." The path wasn't slippery anymore, but Tara decided that she liked holding onto Epona's hand, so she didn't release it. Epona made no move to extricate herself. "And the rabbit started to wonder if maybe the wildcat wasn't so horrible after all."

Tara smiled. "I know I've always liked 'em," she murmured.

Green eyes regarded her, and then twinkled just a little. "The weeks turned into months," Epona continued, "and then the rabbit started to notice that the wildcat wasn't being so mean to it anymore. The wildcat brought home vegetables for the rabbit to eat and spoke kindly to it. And there came a day when the rabbit realized that it and the wildcat were friends."

The warrior grunted. "Must've been one damn cute rabbit."

"It was," Epona agreed soberly, although her eyes sparkled even more. "So the wildcat and the rabbit lived together, and they started to be pretty comfortable. The wildcat kept the rabbit safe from its predators, and the rabbit entertained the wildcat, and they were happy." She paused. "Then, one day, the wildcat went out hunting. The rabbit stayed by the den and hopped around there, nibbling on the fresh green grass." The story paused as Tara had to hack through some dead, overgrown branches with her sword to clear their path. "Anyway, while the rabbit was eating, it forgot to pay attention to its surroundings. And suddenly, it was attacked by a wolf!"

"Sucks to be a rabbit." Tara held aside a bough as Eirian and Epona squeezed through.

"Sometimes," Epona agreed. "The rabbit ran hard, and tried all its tricks, but the wolf was very fast, and it was closing in. Finally the rabbit was too tired to run anymore. The wolf howled and rushed at it, and the poor rabbit closed its eyes because it didn't want to watch death coming." The little slave paused, Tara suspected for effect. "And then, just when everything looked hopeless, the wildcat burst out of the bushes!"

Eirian clapped her hands and laughed. "Good."

Epona grinned at her. "The wolf and the wildcat fought for a long time, because the wolf was very hungry and wanted to eat the rabbit badly. But finally the wolf was defeated, and it ran away into the forest. The wildcat collapsed to the ground." The warrior looked at Epona and lifted a brow. The little slave was apparently absorbed in picking her way through some tree roots. "The wildcat was badly hurt," the slave said softly. "The rabbit went to it and licked its wounds. After a while, the wildcat managed to get up, and they went together to the wildcat's den, where it collapsed again."

The redhead wrinkled her nose. "This is getting kinda depressing, runt."

The little slave smiled gently. "For a while it was scary, and it looked like the wildcat might die from its injuries. But fortunately, it was strong. And after a long rest, with the rabbit licking its wounds every day, the wildcat finally was strong enough to get up and find itself something to eat." She looked up at Tara and smiled again. "And after that, every creature in the forest knew that they really loved each other, because the rabbit hadn't run away even though it could have, and the wildcat had risked its life to save its friend."

"That was a beautiful story, Epona." Eirian's gray eyes were soft.

Tara grunted and smirked at the slave. "Yeah, it was nice," she said. "Only now I'm hungry for rabbit."

"Hey." Epona pouted – and then, as the possible double meaning of the words sank in, flushed a brilliant scarlet. The warrior burst into laughter. Epona hid her face in her hands in embarrassment. Laughing softly, Eirian grasped the slave's elbow and steered her around a large stone.

Still chuckling, Tara turned her attention back to the path. _Kid's always telling these stories about how we fall in love._ Her expression sobered. _Well, I know Epona's said she loves me. Why the hell she'd do that, I don't know…she does, though. And I know she's under my skin like no one else ever has been. _Tara's dark eyes swept their surroundings, searching for threats almost subconsciously. _But what'm I supposed to do with it? If I ever tell her I…well, that I love her…she'll expect things I can't give her. _The warrior breathed a sigh. _Well, with any luck, whatever the Morrigan's got in store for me will get me killed anyway, and this'll all be a moot point._

Then she jumped as something slid into her palm. Tara barely managed to rein in the bone-deep defensive instincts that almost sent the perceived threat flying through the air. The only visible response in her was a twitch. Having regained control, Tara looked down to find that Epona had slipped her slim hand into hers, and was now looking timidly up at her. The little slave looked as if she half expected to be shoved away. Tara took a deep breath. Then she curled her fingers around the smaller ones and gave Epona a grin. Epona responded with a shy smile. The two of them continued on that way, hand in hand, with Eirian following a pace or two behind.


	77. Chapter 77

Tara stood silently on the crest of the hill, her eyes moving slowly over the scene before them. The woods had given way to gently-rolling plains, which stretched out ahead of the travellers until it met the silver line that was the sea. She could see the small bay from where she stood, and the huts and larger buildings that announced human habitation.

Kilkee.

She hadn't expected the overwhelming flood of emotion that was washing through her right now. Her eyes hadn't fallen on this landscape since that day so long ago when she'd left, an angry, frightened, bitter teenager with her belongings in a tiny bundle on her shoulder. And now here she was. She'd done everything, become everything she'd wanted to be. It had come full circle.

A small figure pushed up beside her and poked a curly head out from under Tara's arm. "Is that Kilkee?" Epona asked excitedly. "Is it, ma'am?"

The warrior looked down at her slave and smiled quietly. "Yeah," she murmured. "That's Kilkee, little mouse." She squeezed Epona's slender form a little. "So what do you think of it? Is it as great as you thought?"

Epona grinned up at her. "It's really pretty," she said. "I knew it would be."

Footsteps, and Eirian moved up beside them so that she could see. She looked tired, Tara thought. There were subtle shadows under her eyes. It had been a long journey for all of them, Tara mused. It would be good to rest for a while. - Assuming, of course, that the Morrigan's schemes would allow for it. She sighed as the familiar sadness swamped her.

The growing affection between the slave and the priestess was obvious to Tara. It almost physically hurt the warrior to watch them sometimes, because it reminded her of what she stood to lose. Tara took it quietly, though, and tucked that pain away. _Doesn't matter in the end,_ she told herself. _You're probably going to die when the Morrigan does whatever she's going to do. So let the kid and the Celt get close. At least this way the little mouse has someone to take care of her once you're gone._

A pale hand gently pushed against Tara's forearm, resting on the sleeve of her shirt. Tara looked down at the priestess. That had been another change lately. Eirian had occasionally been touching the warrior - just small, subtle gestures like this one. Gray eyes gazed up at Tara. "We should go to the holy hill, warrior," the priestess said quietly.

Another pang. Tara's teeth gritted against it. She wasn't afraid of death or of the Morrigan, but she didn't want to die just yet. She wanted a few more days. Her eyes moved to Epona and softened just a touch. "Not yet," Tara said. "We'll get a room first, and then I want to look around. Just a couple days. Don't know if we'll get the chance once we've talked with your goddess, priestess."

Eirian hesitated, then nodded. "It will be nice to rest," she admitted. The lines of weariness in her face became more prominent. "I'm sure that you are tired, as well."

"Been a long road." Tara nodded to Eirian before patting Epona on the bottom and releasing her. "Come on. Let's go get set up at the inn. We can relax for a while." And she strode forward with a confidence that she didn't really feel. Her companions fell into step behind her, their faces lighting up at the thought of soft beds and hot suppers.

Like most Gael settlements, Kilkee was not used to strangers or travelers, and the three women got many suspicious looks as they made their way through the muddy streets. Tara simply glowered straight ahead and kept walking, her hand resting on the hilt of her sword. She felt nervous and self-conscious. No one had really looked very familiar yet, and certainly no one had recognized her, but she couldn't help but feel uncomfortable. She'd been a street urchin here, a worthless thief. Everywhere she looked, she could see reminders of that life. The streets hadn't changed. Tara scowled even more. She was looking forward to holing up in a room at the inn and recovering her composure.

Epona seemed to be trying to look in every direction at once, her green eyes wide and round with curiosity. Eirian was holding the older girl's hand and guiding her patiently through the streets. As Tara watched, she prevented the little slave from crashing headlong into a cartload of dried fish. The warrior felt a faint burst of amusement in spite of her own anxiety. She turned her attention back to her destination.

The inn, to her surprise, was almost exactly as she remembered it. She gazed at it dourly as they approached. There was the broken-down trough with water for the very rare horse that might pass through. There was the battered tavern door beside which she had huddled many times as a child, wondering whether her mother was going to come out before dawn. There was the slightly less weathered door that led to the inn's common room, where Tara had begged for and received the occasional bit of bread. The warrior gritted her teeth and picked up her pace. Without ceremony, she strode through the door, sending it crashing into the wall.

Several wide-eyed stares met her as she stood on the threshold. There were two rather red-nosed fishermen sitting at a table drinking ale out of wooden mugs, and a woman of perhaps thirty standing behind the counter. Tara continued her forward progress to the counter. The woman's eyes grew wider and rounder as the warrior came closer. Tara stopped, gazing stonily down into the innkeeper's bewildered face. She thought the woman looked vaguely familiar, but she let no hint of that creep into her expression. "I need a room for me and my slaves," she said coldly.

The innkeeper looked past the imposing redhead to the two girls behind her. Epona was watching Tara with a furrowed brow, biting her lip. The collar around her neck showed dark against her skin. Eirian simply stood and waited quietly with Epona's hand still gently clasped in her own. "Oh," the innkeeper said faintly. "Um...of course, warrior." She pointed to the stairs. "Take your choice. Th-they're all open."

Tara glanced up at the wall. There was a crude wooden sign on the wall announcing the rate for rooms. Without a word, she slapped the coins down on the counter and turned to her companions. "Come," she grunted, and headed up the stairs. Eirian released Epona's hand and gently prodded her to follow. The little slave did so quietly, but not before casting a curious glance at the innkeeper. The blond Celt brought up the rear.

The rooms were small and crude, but they were reasonably neat, and the beds smelled of clean straw. Tara tossed her pack down beside the bed with a thud. Epona went straight to the window to examine the view, while Eirian knelt down by the hearth to start a fire. The warrior was still jittery. She stalked back to the door of the room and stood staring out into the hall, her arms folded across her chest, scowling. This place reminded her painfully of things she hadn't ever wanted to think about again.

A slender arm slipped around her waist, and Epona's diminutive form pressed up against her side. "Are you okay, ma'am?" the slave asked. "You look kind of upset."

"I'm fine," Tara snarled. She felt Epona flinch, and gave an inward wince herself. The warrior sighed. "I'm fine," she said, consciously gentling her voice. "This place just..." She made a helpless gesture. "It gives me the creeps."

"The inn?" Epona looked around, and then back up at her owner. "It's not very big, but it looks okay, doesn't it? I mean, I haven't seen any rats or anything."

"No. Not the inn. Here. Kilkee." Tara shrugged her shoulders. "It's nothing. Never mind, runt." She tousled the slave's dark curls roughly. "Go help the blond get the room set up so we can go downstairs and eat." Epona nodded silently and went to do as she was told. The warrior turned back to watch her two companions work. Eirian had succeeded in getting the tinder in the fireplace burning, and was now carefully adding larger sticks from the woodpile that lay to one side. The little slave had stacked their packs neatly in a corner. As Tara watched, she laid out two bedrolls for her and Eirian to sleep on.

Tara sighed. _It all looks so innocent, so damn normal. It's like we aren't even waiting for the other shoe to drop._ She looked at the priestess. Eirian was sitting back on her heels and watching the fire with a speculative eye, as if she was wondering whether to throw on a little more wood. Tara regarded her in resignation. She was through fighting against her fate. _Just a couple more days,_ she told herself. _Then I'll go with the Celt to see the goddess, and whatever happens - happens._ A quiet depression settled over her spirit. It seemed to be her usual mood lately.

She was brought out of her reverie by a small hand sliding into her own. Epona peered up at her with gentle, concerned eyes. "We're finished, ma'am," she said softly.

Tara glanced around, and found that the room had been put into faultless order. She nodded briefly. "Good," she said. Her gaze moved between the two girls. "We'll go get supper now," she said. "Don't forget that the two of you will be sitting at my feet." Her long finger extended and rested on the tip of Epona's nose. "Don't forget to keep your head down and your mouth shut, little mouse," she said. "I'll protect you if anyone decides to start anything, but I'd rather just eat. Got it?"

The little slave nodded and bowed her head, shamefaced at the memory of what had happened in Eblana. "I'll be good," she whispered. Tara nodded. Without any further commentary, she turned and headed back downstairs. Epona and Eirian followed in silence.

Wary eyes followed the redhead as she moved into the common room. Tara ignored them and went to the innkeeper, who was looking a bit worried herself. "How much for supper?" the warrior grunted.

"It comes with the room, warrior," the woman said. "The stew pot is full - sit and eat, and I'll bring you ale." She gestured at the large communal fireplace, in which a cauldron was bubbling. The two men were sitting to one side of it, dipping out pieces of meat and bits of vegetable with eating daggers. Without comment, Tara strode to the other side of the fireplace and kicked a three-legged stool into place with her right foot. She sat down and drew out her boot knife. Eirian knelt down to her left and folded her white hands neatly in her lap. Epona sat down in front of Tara, almost on top of her feet, and rested her dark head against the warrior's knees.

The unconscious affection of the gesture made the warrior smile just a little. She resisted the urge to pet the little slave's curls. Instead she reached over, speared a piece of what looked like venison from the pot, and bit it in half. It tasted good. Tara lowered her knife to Epona's eye level. Dainty fingers plucked the remaining bit of meat neatly from the blade. Without comment, Tara reached for a second morsel.

It was an interesting feeling to be more or less hand-feeding her charges. Eirian took the bits of food with quiet dignity, the same way that she did everything else. Feeding Epona was different. It was an almost erotic experience. Soft, warm lips nibbled the morsels from Tara's fingers, and those green eyes watched her with gentle confidence. Tara made sure that both girls had eaten their fill before she took care of her own needs. She was aware of Eirian and Epona whispering to each other as she finished up, but she took little notice. Cleaning and sheathing her boot knife, she rose to her feet. "Come," she said shortly, with a gesture to the girls. They silently got up and followed her back up to their room.

The sun was setting. Its red-golden light filtered into the room through the window, making it seem safe and homey. Tara felt some of her tension easing. She sighed deeply and went to stand by the window. She could see the ocean, and the dock for the fishing boats, and the posts that marked the places where fish-trapping nets would be spread in their season. It was all so familiar. Her dark eyes lingered moodily on the dock where she'd begged for fish as a child. Tara's jaw clenched. _I beg from no one now._

Epona appeared, seemingly out of thin air, and smiled shyly up at her. Slim fingers began to work at the fastener of her cloak. The warrior stood still while the little slave proceeded to remove the heavy shoulder armor and set to work on her breastplate. Epona's face was a study in concentration; her green eyes were narrowed, and the tip of her pink tongue protruded from her lips. Tara's mouth curved a bit. _She's so damned cute,_ she thought. Epona lifted the breastplate carefully down to the floor. Next came the bracers on Tara's forearms. Tara was very conscious of the soft fingertips brushing against her skin as the girl knelt down and unbuckled the plates that protected the warrior's shins.

With this done, Epona stood up again. Resting her hands on Tara's belt, she looked up at the redhead as if asking permission. The warrior nodded once. Reverently, the slave unbuckled her owner's belt and lifted her sheathed sword down to join the armor on the floor. Tara watched through hooded eyes as the slave girl knelt again to remove her boots. This more formal undressing was something they didn't bother with when they were traveling, but Epona insisted on it when they stayed at an inn. The smaller woman seemed to enjoy the process.

_And so do I, I guess, if I'm being honest._ Tara couldn't quite restrain a shiver of pleasure as Epona removed her heavy outer tunic. The slave girl gave her a shy smile as she slipped her hands beneath her owner's undershirt. Tingles followed Epona's touch. The garment was gone a moment later. The slave girl trailed her hands down Tara's sides, then loosened the waistband of her warm leggings. The warrior gave another pleasant shudder as Epona's hands slid slowly down her legs, taking the last of her clothes with them.

There was a glint in the slave's green eyes as she stood up again, and the little half-smile on her face more than hinted at mischief. She leaned into Tara's body, her small hands resting against the muscled abdomen, and peered up at her with a charming grin. "Can I ask you for something, ma'am?"

Tara eyed her suspiciously. "What?"

Innocently, Epona tugged Tara's soft sleeping shirt from a pack and stood on her tiptoes to pull it over her owner's head. Tara bent her back slightly so that the shorter girl could dress her in it more easily. With this done, the little slave again let her hands rest on Tara's belly. "Will you promise to say yes?" Tara frowned. Epona rested her head against the woman's breast and peered up at her pleadingly. "Don't you trust me, ma'am? Please say you'll say yes." The girl's lower lip poked out just a bit.

Adorable. Tara grimaced as she felt herself crumbling. "All right, fine," she growled. "What d'you want, rodent?"

Epona beamed and tugged Tara down to kiss her cheek. Her slender arms wrapped around the warrior's neck. Tara shivered as the girl's warm lips brushed against her ear. "I want you to sleep with Eirian tonight," Epona whispered.

The words took a moment or two to sink in. Then the warrior stood up straight, tearing herself out of the slave's arms, and stared at her in dumbfounded shock. _"What?"_ she blurted. Her dark eyes flicked over to Eirian. The priestess was standing quietly by the first, her hands clasped in front of her. She seemed as calm as ever. Tara scowled and turned angry eyes back on Epona. "You two planned this," she accused. "You're plotting behind my back!"

"Kind of," Epona admitted softly. She took Tara's hand between her own. The warrior didn't pull away. Those deep, soulful green eyes captured her owner's. "Please, Tara," she whispered. "I know you still don't trust her, but she's good. Honest. She's a friend. Please do this for me. You did promise."

Still scowling, Tara glared down at her. "You tricked me."

Humbly, Epona nodded. "I know. And I'll take it if you want to punish me, ma'am. But please...keep your promise anyway?" Her lower lip poked out again.

"Minx," Tara muttered. The small hands squeezed hers lightly. With a sigh, the warrior looked up at the priestess again. "Fine," she said. "But you're still in trouble, rodent," she added, jabbing a long finger into Epona's chest. "This isn't over. I'm going to deal with you later."

"Yes, ma'am." The little slave gazed up at her in trust and acceptance. Then she released Tara's hand. Without another word, Epona went to the bedrolls and began to get herself ready for bed.

There was silence for a few long moments. Then Tara turned to glare at Eirian. The Celt was still standing there quietly. She was evidently waiting for Tara to give her some instruction. The warrior crossed the room with two long strides. Before the priestess could even move, Tara's hand was tangled in the front of her tunic, and Eirian was thrust back hard against the wall! The girl gasped softly and paled. "So," Tara growled, meeting the girl's silver eyes. "You want to bed me, priestess?"

Eirian's body was quivering, but her voice was soft and steady. "Only if you want it, warrior," she said. "Epona thought it was a good idea."

"And what do you get out of it?" Tara lifted up on her handful of shirt until Eirian's feet left the floor. "Let's hear it, Blondie."

Eirian winced and made a noticeable effort not to squirm. "Only greater trust between us," she whispered. "I know you think I'm here to harm you, to trap you, warrior. It isn't true." She grimaced as Tara's fist pressed harder into her chest. "No one forces your hand," she said softly. "If you don't want it, warrior...I will do as you wish. I serve you by order of the goddess."

Tara considered for a while, studying the priestess through narrowed eyes. Then she released her grip. Eirian stumbled and nearly fell, but managed to regain her footing. _You want to bed me, priestess? Well, be careful what you wish for._ Tara grasped the girl's upper arm and tugged her purposefully toward the room's sole bed. Eirian stared at Tara as the warrior released her. "Well?" Tara snapped.

Silently, the priestess slipped out of her clothes, leaving only her sleeveless linen shift. Then she looked nervously up at Tara. The warrior let her eyes move over the girl's body. Eirian was definitely very different from Epona. Her form was longer, and while she was lean, her muscles were softer and larger than the wiry ones that lined Epona's frame. She was also more well-endowed than Epona was, and her hips had more pronounced curves. Eirian wasn't unattractive at all, despite how she might feel about her, Tara had to admit.

_All right,_ she said to herself. _Let's do this._ She took the girl firmly by her bare shoulders and pulled her close. The skin felt smooth and cool beneath Tara's palms, as if the white curves were carved out of marble. A moment later, Tara claimed the young woman's mouth with her own.

The priestess stiffened and gasped, her lips parting beneath the warrior's. Tara took advantage of the opening to plunder Eirian's yielding mouth with her tongue. She tasted different from Epona - lighter, perhaps. Cooler. The redhead tore her lips from Eirian's and moved lower, tugging the girl's head none too gently to one side as she bit at the side of her neck. Eirian whimpered in pain. Tara moved lower and bit again, this time at the juncture of the blond's neck and shoulder. The priestess keened softly through her gritted teeth.

Without further ceremony, Tara pulled the shift from Eirian's body and bore her down to the bed. Eirian squirmed a bit as the warrior's tongue rasped against her throat; Tara tasted her with dark delight, lingering over the marks left by her teeth. White hands clutched at the warrior and tried halfheartedly to push her away. In an instant, both Eirian's wrists were pinned together behind her back by Tara's left hand, and the warrior was growling at her. Without speaking, Tara moved lower and bit hard at Eirian's collarbone. The blond made a sound rather like a sob.

Lower still. Tara's teeth dug into the lower swell of Eirian's right breast, wringing a whimpering cry from the priestess. Lower - a sharp bite to the blond's left flank, and then her hip. Eirian was crying now. Tara released the girl's hands and scooted down between the pale knees. She forced them wide apart, then bent her head down and sank her teeth into Eirian's left thigh. The priestess groaned. A little higher - Tara leaned down and mercilessly bit again, this time at the inside of Eirian's right thigh - so close that blond curls tickled against her cheek.

Eirian was sobbing and fruitlessly trying to push the warrior away from her. "No...no, please...don't, don't bite me there, please..." Tara slowly lifted her head to gaze darkly at the priestess. The girl's eyes were overflowing with tears of pain and fear. The warrior felt a rush of grim satisfaction. Then she glanced over at the bedrolls. Epona was huddled there, staring at them. Her expression held dismay and deep reproach. _Teach you to try and manipulate me, mouse girl._ Tara gave her a half-grin before turning back to her weeping bedmate.

Slowly, gently, Tara began to trace the bite marks with her tongue and kiss them. She worked backward from where she was, starting on the blond's legs and moving back up her body to her chest and neck, ending at last with her body pinning Eirian's down on the bed and her brown eyes locked with the teary gray ones. She placed a firm kiss on the quivering mouth of the priestess before pulling back to once again look in her eyes. "I give you this," she said softly, in a voice so low that only Eirian would catch it, "because I choose to. I give myself to your damned goddess because I choose to, to keep Epona safe. I bend my knee to no one." She narrowed her eyes slightly to emphasize her words. "Understand?"

Slowly, Eirian's hands came up and rested against the sides of Tara's head. The gray eyes were still brimming with tears, but Eirian's expression had calmed a bit. Her voice, when she spoke, was as soft as Tara's. "Warrior, I'm not your enemy." Tara paused, surprised. She'd expected terrified whispers or angry words, or both, but not gentleness. Eirian's white fingers very gently traced Tara's cheek. "I'm not your enemy," Eirian repeated softly. "You can do as you like to me - I'm your servant. But I will not ever lift my hand against you or the little one."

"The goddess you serve," Tara hissed, "would."

"No." Eirian's pale eyes gazed quietly into hers. "I've told you, warrior. It's the truth. She wishes you no harm. She wishes the little one no harm." The glint of fear and pain returned as Tara's expression didn't change. "Please, warrior, don't...hurt me. I've never done this before."

Tara studied her for a long moment. Then she made her decision. She grasped Eirian's wrists and tugged her hands once more behind her back, pinning them there. The priestess trembled as the warrior's lips began to nip lightly at her throat. There were no more bites, however, and no more pain. Tara's kisses were gentle. Her left hand began to stroke and caress the Celt's body. Eirian's hands remained held behind her back, but Tara held them only hard enough to control, not hard enough to cause discomfort.

The warrior was experienced in lovemaking, and she put those skills to work now. Within a few minutes Eirian was gasping softly. Her pale cheeks had flushed pink, and her eyes had deepened and darkened until they looked almost black in the firelight. Tara felt unmistakable hunger rising up from her own depths. She growled possessively and sucked at the corner of Eirian's jaw. At the same time, she let her hand slide down the blond's body and slip in between her thighs. Eirian's back arched convulsively.

"Shh," Tara whispered, controlling the bucking priestess with her own body. "Relax." Her touch was much rougher than it would have been with Epona, but not enough to cause pain. Eirian was moaning softly now, her head thrown back. Her blond hair fanned out over the pillows like corn silk. As Tara's attentions increased, Eirian began to writhe in pleasure. The warrior tightened her grip on the girl's wrists and moved down to the pale breasts. She tasted first, drawing her tongue over and around the soft, smooth flesh, before drawing a pink nipple into her mouth. Eirian gave a cry of ecstasy as Tara sucked hard. Her arms strained, but the warrior held fast to her hands.

The feeling of power was heady, but Tara could feel something else as she licked and nipped at Eirian's helpless flesh. It was a softer emotion - not love, not tenderness, but maybe just a touch of protectiveness. She gazed down into Eirian's flushed face and half-shut eyes. The priestess was close, she could tell. Her touch grew rougher. Finally Eirian's body arched under her, and she let out a guttural cry. Tara held her firmly as her body shuddered with pleasure. At last, Eirian fell limp beneath the warrior, panting for breath.

Only when Eirian's body was completely limp did Tara slowly retract her fingers from between the milk-white thighs and release her arms. The priestess lay still, her eyes closed. Tara drew the blanket over the two of them and moved to one side so that she was no longer pinning Eirian down. Eirian's pale gray eyes opened to gaze dazedly into Tara's after a few moments. "Doing all right, priestess?" the warrior asked mildly.

"Yes," Eirian whispered. She wriggled a little, apparently trying to pull her arms from beneath herself, but seemed too weak. Tara smirked as she drew her fingertips down the side of the Celt's face. "Thank you," the priestess murmured, "for not hurting me."

Tara's dark eyes studied hers. "I could."

"I know," Eirian said. "That's why I thanked you, warrior."

Very softly, Tara brushed her lips down the alabaster column of Eirian's neck and suckled at the angry marks left by her teeth. She could already tell that they were going to bruise. The feel of the yielding flesh beneath her mouth brought back that odd, protective feeling that she'd first sensed a few minutes before. She propped herself on her elbows to look down at Eirian again. The blond lay quietly and looked up at her with her usual air of dignified submission. The warrior pondered what they'd talked about just before she'd taken her. "So," Tara said. "Trust, huh?"

Eirian nodded. "Yes."

Tara though for a while. "Okay," she said. "I believe you don't have any plans to hurt us. I don't trust the Morrigan for one second - but I'll trust you." Her sandy brows arched as she gazed down at her. "Deal?"

A weak smile graced the blond's face. "It's a start," Eirian said softly. "I'm glad, warrior."

The redhead's arm snaked beneath Eirian's back to firmly grasp and pin her wrists again. Tara's dark eyes smoldered in the firelight. "Enough talk," Tara said huskily. "I can think of more interesting things to do." And, covering Eirian's naked body with her own, the warrior bent down to show her just exactly what those things were.


	78. Chapter 78

The priestess and the slave were trailing hand-in-hand up the street, following the sullenly-striding form of the tall redhead. Tara was in full armor. Every inch of steel and brass was polished until its shine hurt the eye, and her weapons were on full and prominent display. She was even wearing her helm; its ridges came low across her brows, giving her an intimidating, feral look. The wolf fur of the cloak she'd bought in Cardiff bristled at her neck. Epona studied her quietly, lost in thought.

It had been a long night. Epona had talked Eirian into the plot to bed Tara. The little slave had thought that all the warrior needed was an extra nudge to break down the hostility she still had toward Eirian. Instead, Epona had watched in growing horror as Tara had made the priestess cry in pain. The little slave had been afraid to interfere, but she had almost made up her mind to do just that when Tara's touch had suddenly gentled, and Eirian's sobs had faded. There had been a brief, soft conversation that Epona hadn't been able to hear. After that it had been more or less all right, the slave thought.

She'd only managed a short conversation with Eirian that morning. The priestess had simply smiled a bit and told her things were all right between her and Tara, and that she and the warrior had reached an agreement. Epona had to be satisfied with that, because she hadn't gotten any more chances to whisper with Eirian, and she couldn't quite bring herself to ask her mercurial owner any questions on the subject.

Tara looked very uncomfortable to Epona's eye. She could almost feel the tension rippling off the woman's tall body. The warrior was moving through the streets like a stalking predator, radiating an air of silent menace that sent the townsfolk fairly scurrying out of her path. _She's scared,_ Epona realized suddenly. _Tara's afraid. Is it because she thinks that goddess is going to hurt us, or is it something else?_ She chewed her lip as she mulled it over.

The redhead stopped suddenly. They were in what looked like a small market square in the middle of Kilkee. The majority of the buildings here were more permanent structures, not like the sturdy but comparatively flimsy fishermen's huts on the outskirts. In the square, a number of small, temporary stands had been set up. There was a baker's stand, which held loaves and buns. Another stand apparently was selling dried and salted fish. A third belonged to a tailor, who was busily repairing something gray. Tara turned to look at her two companions and held out her hand to Epona. The slave girl moved forward at the silent invitation; her small paw slipped into Tara's fingers. Without a word, the warrior headed over to the left. Eirian trailed behind them.

There was a space in between two of the buildings. Tara moved into it and stopped there. Epona felt the woman's callused hand tighten a little around hers, but the warrior didn't speak. The slave peered up at her. Tara's jaw was clenched, and her face was as hard as granite. Epona looked back at the small alley. For a moment, she was confused - then she understood. "This is the place, isn't it?" Epona murmured. She returned her gaze to her owner's face. "This is where Maggie died."

The muscles of Tara's jaw jumped once or twice. Her expression didn't waver. "Yep."

Epona looked back at the alley. She could still remember the story that Tara had told, and the description of this place. There weren't any awnings on the buildings, but she could see a place along the righthand wall where something had once been bolted in place. Epona pulled her hand from Tara's and moved forward. She knelt down under the spot and, bending over, pressed the palm of her hand against the cobblestones. _It was right here,_ she thought sadly. _Right here that poor little girl died, and Tara was alone with her._

When Epona looked up, Tara still hadn't moved. The little slave could see Eirian standing quietly behind the warrior - she was watching them, her pale eyes full of concern. Epona got up and went back to take Tara's hand between hers. The warrior's gaze dropped to the ground, but she didn't pull away. "Ma'am?" Epona murmured. Tara gave her a sidelong glance, and the slave saw the muscles in the woman's jaw twitching again. "Where do people get buried here in Kilkee?"

Tara's dark eyes flicked up to glare into Epona's. There was a long pause; then the warrior seemed to give in. "It's, um..." She waved a hand to the northeast. "It's that way. Kind of on the way to the Morrigan's hill." The warrior shrugged one shoulder. "Never actually been there," she muttered.

The slave stroked the callused hand that rested between hers. "Will you take us there?" she asked softly. "Maybe we could find out where they put her."

The warrior shrugged again. Then, after a second or two, she tugged her fingers from Epona's. "Later," she grunted. "Wanna go someplace else first." Tara turned away and started walking again. The little slave stood rooted to the spot for a moment. Then she darted to Eirian's side, took the priestess by the hand, and followed after her owner. Eirian walked along without comment.

The three women moved through the streets for maybe fifteen minutes more. Then Tara again came to an abrupt halt, ignoring the curious looks from passers-by. This time she was looking at a small cluster of buildings. They were built from wood and daub, the same as the smaller fishermen's huts, but seemed to be slightly less homey structures. The gray, clayey plaster outlined the rough-hewn planks that made up the buildings. Each one had a stout wooden door.

Epona moved to Tara and insinuated herself against the woman's body. The warrior slung one long arm absently around Epona's shoulders. The little slave looked up at her curiously. "Where are we, ma'am?"

That stony expression was back on Tara's face. She pointed at one of the huts. "There," she said, and the word was clipped. "Grew up there."

The curly-haired girl examined the hut in question. It seemed so innocuous, sitting there innocently among its fellows. This was where Tara's drunken mother had raised her. This was where a young Tara had slept on nights when her mother had actually come home. This was where the child had been beaten and abused. This was where Tara had awaited her mother that one fateful night - where she had probably beaten the woman to death.

It had all happened here.

Epona thought she understood now why Kilkee made Tara so tense. There really were very few good memories for her here. Sadly, Epona turned away from the hut to look at the warrior. Tara was still stone-faced, but the little slave could sense the woman's pain and discomfort. She moved forward impulsively and hugged the redhead around the waist. "I'm sorry," Epona whispered.

"For what?" Tara growled, without looking at her.

"Everything." The slave hugged her harder. Tara allowed it for a moment or two; then she stepped away. Without a word, the warrior started walking again. Epona sighed deeply before she followed.

Eirian walked alongside Epona for a minute or so without speaking. Then she looked at the little slave. "Epona," she murmured, "what were you two talking about? What was special about that alley, and this hut?"

The curly-headed girl hesitated, casting a worried glance ahead at her owner. Tara didn't look back; the set of her shoulders was rigid. Epona sighed softly. "Well," she said in a low voice, "Tara grew up in that hut. Tara's mom wasn't very nice, and she was a drunk. She beat Tara up when she was little. And...and Tara killed her there before she left this town." The priestess's gray eyes widened. Epona nodded quietly. "And the alley was where her friend died. They were both just little girls."

"Oh." The blond was silent for a while. "This must be very hard for her," she murmured at length, as if to herself.

"I think it really is," Epona agreed sadly. "That's probably part of why she was so mean last night." She looked at her friend and slipped her hand into hers. "Are you sure you're okay, Eirian?"

The priestess clasped the proffered hand and absently rubbed at the side of her own neck. "I am well," she said. "A bruise or two, but nothing more. I believe Tara felt the need to remind me of her strength." She smiled gently at the guilty look on Epona's face. "It wasn't your doing, little one," Eirian soothed. "The warrior was gentler after that. And besides, it worked, didn't it? Tara promised to trust me. I think things are better now."

"I know," Epona said in a small voice. "I just don't like it when people get hurt." Eirian smiled and dropped a soft kiss on the older girl's forehead.

They had reached the small market square again. Tara paused there to buy bread and fish, which she gave to the two girls without comment. Then she headed out of the square, following the streets that led northeast. Epona and Eirian followed as they nibbled on their lunches.

Just outside the town, perhaps a hundred yards from the last of the humble huts, lay a lone shack by a field. The perimeter of the field was marked with gray stones. Inside it, Epona could see larger stones laid out in even rows. Each stone was inscribed with runes that the little slave didn't recognize. Nevertheless, she knew what this place was. _This must be Kilkee's graveyard,_ she thought soberly. _I wonder if we can find Maggie here?_ The wind blew about them in gusts.

As they approached the shack, an old man shuffled out. He looked as if he had been a big man in his youth - his frame was still large - but he was fairly thin now. His watery blue eyes fixed them with a suspicious stare as he paused in the doorway. Tara stopped and looked at him in silence for a few minutes. Then she spoke. "I'm looking for someone," she said curtly, pointing at the gravestones. "You know who's here?"

"Aye." The man gave Epona a hard look before turning his attention back to the redheaded warrior. "I knows. I've been caretaker to 'em since before you were born, woman."

Tara hesitated. Epona bit her lip at the uncertainty in the woman's face. "It was a long time ago," the warrior muttered. "A...little girl with brown hair. She would've been eight or so. Just an urchin. Probably no one claimed her."

His brows lifted slightly. "Twenty years ago?" Epona saw Tara swallow hard and jerk her head in a nod. The man's expression softened noticeably. "Aye. She's here." He shuffled his way to a blank stone not too far from his hut and leaned stiffly down to pat it. "Had no name to give her, but I made sure the poor child had a place to lie," he said. His watery eyes studied Tara again. "Did you know her?"

The redhead moved forward. Then, quietly, she dropped down on one knee. Her callused fingers rubbed through the scraggly brown grass that covered the small grave. "Yeah." Tara's dark eyes were fixed on the ground. "Her name was Maggie."

The caretaker smiled then. "Ah! Bless you, woman. Now I finally have something to carve on the stone! Wonderful, wonderful. I'll just go get my tools." He turned and went back into his hut, rubbing his hands together and beaming with genuine joy.

Epona couldn't hang back anymore. She slipped forward and put her arms around her owner's body. Her cheek rested against the cold metal of Tara's shoulder armor. In silence, the two of them regarded the blank stone together. At length, Tara's ribs expanded in a sigh. "No one even knew her name, little mouse."

The woman's voice was weary. Epona looked up; Tara's eyes were full of a deep sadness and guilt that sent a pang through her own heart. She kissed the warrior's cheek. "They will now," she said softly. "And you knew it, ma'am. You always knew it." Tara didn't move. "It's all right, Tara," the little slave whispered. "Maggie knew that you loved her. And you were with her in the end. She didn't die alone, and she would have if you hadn't been there. You didn't do anything wrong."

Tara closed her eyes. "I wish she hadn't died." The words were almost inaudible. As Epona watched in disbelief, two tears broke free and trickled slowly down the warrior's cheeks.

It was an instant only. Then Tara shrugged her off, hurriedly brushed the offending moisture away with her sleeve, and got up. She was her usual glowering self by the time the caretaker limped back to the grave with a hammer and chisel in hand. She watched with her arms folded across her chest as he knelt over the grave and began to chip away at it, carving Maggie's name into the rock. No one spoke until the final stroke had fallen. The old man tenderly brushed away the chips of stone from the freshly engraved marker. Then Tara cleared her throat. "I'm looking for someone else, too, old man."

"Are you, warrior?" The caretaker stiffly rose to his feet again and eyed her. "Who?"

The warrior's icy brown eyes met his. "A woman, a town drunk. She'd have died a few years after Maggie did. Her name was Aine."

He squinted at her. A slow smile curved his lips then. "Ah...I thought you looked a bit familiar under all that foreign armor, I did. When I first laid eyes on you, I thought I'd seen you before, I did - yes, I did! Tara, isn't it? Aine's wild little girl."

Tara's expression didn't change. "I haven't been called a little girl in a very long time, old man," she said coldly. "Do you know where she is, or don't you?"

"Aye, lass." He began to shuffle along between the neat rows of stones. A few yards away, he stopped and indicated a rock at his feet. "Aine was laid to rest here. Someone gave her an awful beating. She struggled along about four days after, but it did her in the fifth morning." The caretaker looked at Tara. "Most folks thought you'd been killed then, too. Never saw hide nor hair of you after that."

"I left. No more reason to stay." The redhead shot him a threatening glare.

The old man shrugged his aged shoulders. "Maybe not. Kilkee ain't kind to everyone, that's a fact." He turned away. "If you're needing anything more, just shout." And the caretaker headed back for his hut.

Epona watched him go for a minute, and then turned back to look at Tara. It was a wild tableau, she thought. The gently-rolling ground stretched out for miles around them, fading into cliffs and ocean to the left and forest to the right. The sky was gray with clouds. Tara stood out like a beacon against the harsh landscape. Her fiery red hair whipped around her in the winter wind, and her cloak billowed a little, but she herself stood still, with her dark eyes fixed on the grave at her feet. The scene captured Epona's imagination like poetry. Tara looked in that moment like a great general or a tragic hero, standing there with her helm under her arm. The little slave caught her breath.

Then reality set in, and Epona bit her lip. _Tara's looking at her mother's grave,_ she thought. _She really killed her - that man just said she died from being beaten._ The idea made Epona feel a little sick. She could only imagine how Tara must be feeling. The little slave looked at the priestess; Eirian's pale eyes were solemn.

Epona gathered her courage. Once again she moved to the warrior's side, unsure if Tara would even want to be comforted. She slowly put her arm around Tara's waist. Those cold, dark eyes tore themselves from the grave and fixed on her. Epona almost flinched at how icy they were. Bravely, she added her other arm to the hug and gazed up into her owner's face. She wished she could think of something brilliant and helpful to do or say, but she could think of nothing. "I'm sorry," Epona whispered.

For a moment, nothing happened. Then Tara blinked, and her face softened - flesh once again, and not granite. That same profound sadness showed in her brown eyes. Tara's lips curved upward just a fraction. Then Epona felt the fold of a wolf-fur cloak enveloping her, and the warrior's long arm draped itself around her skinny shoulders. "So am I," Tara murmured. And they stood there together, gazing down at the grave - two solitary figures in a wind-whipped, wintery world.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

There had been no change in the weather. The sky was still gray and dull, and a biting wind whipped from the hills toward the sea, making the brown grass shiver in its wake. Tara glanced at the ocean for a moment, and then behind her. Epona and Eirian were following quietly, each wrapped up in a cloak. The warrior turned her eyes back to the path they were following.

It was an old path, overgrown in places by long grasses. It snaked out from the outskirts of Kilkee and disappeared up ahead, leading to a distant hill that dwarfed those around it. Tara rested her palm on the hilt of her sword as she remembered the last time she'd come here. Her mother's blood had been fresh on her hands - she'd been ready to go out and stain them with more. The hill of the war goddess had called to her, promising power and strength and the heady excitement of battle. Tara's fingertips absently traced the raven tattoo on the side of her neck.

Epona trotted up to slip her arm around Tara's waist just then. The warrior tossed a fold of her cloak around the smaller girl and looked down at her indulgently. The slave peered up the path. "Is that the hill up there?" she asked. "That big one?"

"Yep." Tara's eyes darkened as they rested on it. "That's the place."

There was a pause. "Ma'am, are you still going to punish me?' Epona asked softly. Tara looked down to find a worried pair of eyes looking back at her. "You know...you said you were going to. For...for getting you to sleep with Eirian. And I'd rather get it over with if you are."

"Oh, yeah. That." Tara gave the question some serious thought for a few minutes. She'd been angry when it had happened, but her temper had since cooled. She frowned a bit. "Don't feel like it," she said. "Guess I'll let you off. But don't try to jerk me around like that again, squirt."

Epona lowered her eyes until her long, black lashes nearly brushed her cheeks. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I just didn't want you to hate her anymore."

"I don't hate her," Tara said coolly. "I just don't trust her goddess." Epona said nothing. The warrior sighed. "Look, little mouse," she said. "Most people will screw you over. I don't just trust - especially not someone who's someone else's tool." The slave girl bit her lower lip. Tara sighed again and relented. "Eirian's all right," she said. "If she wasn't the Morrigan's slave, I guess I'd be okay with her."

Big green eyes lifted to Tara's. "Maybe the Morrigan will explain things to you today," Epona said gravely. "Then maybe you won't have to be angry with her anymore, either."

"I'm not holding my breath." Tara scowled at the horizon.

After a few minutes, Epona broke away from Tara to resume her place near Eirian. The three traveled on in silence. Tara began to pick her way up the hill when they reached it. She wondered what they were going to find at the top. According to the innkeeper, the priestesses of the Morrigan had abandoned this place years ago, although no one knew why. _So if there's no one up there, will the goddess speak through Eirian again?_ she wondered. _Wonder if she'll sprout horns again. Gods._ She chewed the inside of her lip. _Better keep Epona away. Don't want her to have to see that. It'd probably scare her half to death._

They continued up the hill, until at last the top of it came into view. There was a ring of stones there, each one about a foot taller than Tara. One of them had fallen over, and several were leaning, but the circle was still unbroken. The warrior stopped and turned to her companions. Eirian gazed back at her quietly; Epona was looking around, her eyes bright with curiosity. "We're here," Tara said shortly. "Come on, priestess." She caught Epona's attention and gave her a stern look. "You stay here, kid. I don't want you in the line of fire if something happens."

"Oh." Epona looked a little disappointed. She let go of Eirian's hand and bowed her head. "Okay. I'll wait here, then."

"We'll be back soon," Eirian said gently, giving her friend a reassuring hug. The little slave nodded despondently and sat down on a nearby stone. Eirian turned back and moved to Tara's side. Her pale eyes were calm, but Tara detected a hint of excitement in them. "Are you ready, warrior?"

Tara grunted. "After you," she said with acrid pleasantry. The priestess inclined her head. With quiet dignity, the blond Celt turned and headed for the ring of stones. Tara did the same after ensuring that Epona wasn't going to follow them.

The wind whipped through the abandoned stones with an eerie whistling sound. Eirian moved to stand in the center of the circle and looked around expectantly. Tara folded her arms across her chest and watched. Now that they were actually there, she had to admit that she was nervous. Her dark eyes remained on Eirian as the priestess slowly turned. There was silence. After a few minutes, the blond girl looked at Tara. "I'm not sure what to do," she admitted softly.

The warrior scowled. "Call on the Morrigan, of course," she growled. "Do your priestess-mouth-of-the-goddess thing."

"I did." Eirian looked around at the stones. There was a pause. "I will try again," she said. "Perhaps we just need patience." She sat down and closed her eyes to pray and meditate. Tara shifted impatiently.

There was only silence. Tara stood there for a long while, but there was still nothing. After a time, she sat down with her back to one of the stones and began to toy with her boot knife. Still the priestess didn't move or speak. Tara kept her eye out, but there were no supernatural manifestations at all. Her impatience grew.

The sun had been at its zenith when they'd arrived at the hill, gleaming palely through the brooding clouds. Now it was sinking lower. Tara estimated it was already late afternoon. She sheathed her knife and glowered at Eirian. "Well?" she growled.

The look the priestess turned on her was honestly bewildered. "I'm sorry, warrior," Eirian said. "I...I don't know what to do." She made a helpless gesture. "The goddess said to come here, and she would speak with you. Perhaps the Morrigan is testing your patience. Or my faith." Eirian rubbed her eyes. "I will keep trying."

"Don't bother," Tara snapped, her patience giving out completely. "Obviously the Morrigan's not showing up, just like she's never shown up when I need her. She shows up for _you,_ priestess, but she's never shown up for me. To hell with her!" She sprang to her feet and glowered at the sky. Then she turned away and stalked back to where they'd left the little slave.

Eirian stared after her in dismay before scrambling to keep up. "W-wait, warrior," she protested. "The goddess said..."

"The goddess can kiss my..." Tara's snarl was cut off as her eyes fell on Epona. She stopped walking abruptly, and her eyes narrowed.

The slave wasn't alone. She was sitting cross-legged on the ground by a rock, chatting and smiling easily. An old woman was sitting on the rock. Her hair was gray and stringy and hung down to her shoulders. She was dressed in a long, dark gray dress, with a cloak of slightly darker gray draped over her bony back. Her eyes were dark and intelligent. It looked as though Epona was telling her a story, judging by the slave's hand motions.

In less than a breath Tara's sword was naked in her hand, and she was striding forward with dark purpose. Epona spotted her first. She paused in mid-sentence as her eyes filled with dismay. Then she quickly got to her feet and stepped between Tara and the stranger. "Ma'am," she said softly, turning to indicate the old woman, "this is Ceili. She says she lives here. Ceili, this is my owner, Tara of Kilkee."

Ceili turned her gaze on Tara. It was unexpectedly sharp and intelligent. She eyed the blade in the warrior's hand with something like amusement. "Ahh, the wolf pup has teeth," she chuckled. "Will she tear the old woman to pieces?"

Tara didn't back down. She reached out, grasped Epona by the arm, and pulled her away from the stranger. "Who are you, crone?" she demanded.

"Speaking to the heart," the old woman said. She was grinning madly, displaying yellowed and missing teeth. "Not the hand, or the mouth...no, the hand and mouth, always doing and speaking. Need the heart...need the heart."

The redhead sheathed her sword and gave Epona a disgusted look. "Woman's insane," she growled. "You make a habit of chatting up lunatics you meet in the middle of nowhere?"

Epona wrinkled her brow at her and poked out her lower lip. "She's not crazy, ma'am," she said. "She's a nice woman. She told me some really great stories. And she said she'd keep me company until you got back."

"Well, I'm back." Tara glowered. "She can get lost now."

The old woman, however, paid Tara no mind. She rose from her perch on the rock and approached Eirian, who was taking in the scene with a faintly puzzled expression on her face. "Ah," Ceili said softly. "And you, child - you are the voice. You speak her words, yes. You take her form."

Eirian's eyes lit up in pleased surprise. "Yes," she said softly. She searched the woman's face. "You're the one we're supposed to meet, aren't you?"

"If you have come seeking the Mother and the Maid and the Crone, you will not be disappointed." The old woman turned a smile on Epona, who returned it innocently. Then she looked keenly at Tara. "You've come a long way, warrior. Many a mile and many a tear and many a sleepless night, only to wind up at your own front door! Eheheh." Ceili giggled to herself.

Tara's eyes chilled to ice. "If you have something useful to say, old woman, say it," she said coldly. "I didn't come up here to be laughed at by a shriveled old bat."

"Impatient as the north wind." Ceili turned to face Kilkee. The only sign of the town was a few puffs of smoke in the distance. "A shadow," she murmured. "A shadow from the south, swift and deadly. It crushes all in its path." Her eyes seemed to grow darker. "How can the voice act without the hand? How can the hand be understood without the voice? And how can either act without the heart? It can't be."

"Talk sense," Tara snapped.

Ceili looked faintly amused. "So much power," she said, eyeing Tara's muscular arms. "Too much, and not enough wisdom. The hand needs the heart and the voice."

The warrior's eyes widened. "Did you just call me stupid?"

Epona sidled up to her owner and put both arms around her waist. "I think Ceili means that we need each other," she said softly. "Eirian's the voice, and you're the hand, so I guess I'm the heart. She is talking sense."

"It's stupid," the warrior growled. "Just come out and say what you want to say, woman."

The old woman's expression didn't change. "You have been called to beat back the shadow," she said. "Will you listen to the voice, to the heart? It won't be easy, wolf pup. The shadow devours everything in its path." Ceili looked down at Epona, who was regarding her gravely. "It will be hardest for you," she said. "Will you become what you are? Will you let the shadow darken your spirit?" Her clawlike hand touched Epona's chest. "Remember what's important, and you will come through, little maid." The slave's brow wrinkled.

Ceili turned to the scowling warrior. An enigmatic smile crossed her lips, and then she looked at Eirian. The Celt's pale eyes were shining. To Tara's endless annoyance, Eirian moved forward and knelt down at Ceili's feet. The old woman smiled and laid her hand on the girl's blond head. "You already know, child," Ceili said gently. "Stay the course."

"I will." Eirian's chin came up.

The warrior's tolerance finally gave way. "Look," she snapped, "I came up here because this useless blond said the Morrigan was going to tell me what the hell she wants with me. If she sent you, tell me what I'm here for. Spit it out. Now."

The old woman's dark eyes met Tara's. "You don't listen," Ceili scolded. "The hand must beat back the shadow. Destroy it...but it cannot protect the heart, not anymore. Not from everything." She patted the still-kneeling Eirian on the shoulder and gave Epona a gap-toothed smile. Her gnarled hand clasped the little slave's for a moment. "Goddess be with you," she said. Then, without another word, Ceili turned away and began to shuffle off to the south.

Tara was furious. She briefly considered taking out her anger with her blade. Then, with an audible snarl, she turned and stalked down the hillside toward the distant town. "I knew this was a waste of time," she fumed as she heard Epona's footsteps scramble behind her. "Never ask a prophet a straight question and expect a straight answer. All the gods ever do is mess with people. I won't be made a fool of!"

"B-but..." Epona looked back, still struggling to keep up with her angry owner. "Ma'am, she did tell you things, and...aren't we going to wait for Eirian?"

The warrior glanced over her shoulder. There was no sign of the priestess. "No," she growled. "If the Celt's too stupid to keep up, she can find her own damn way back to the inn. Or let her bunk with that half-baked, withered old prune. They can swap god stories."

The little slave looked like she was about to cry. "But there's wild animals out here," she protested. "And...and it's cold, and she doesn't have any food. And it'll be dark soon..."

"Then let the Morrigan protect her," Tara sneered. Epona's step faltered - it looked as if she was thinking about going back for the priestess. Without a word, Tara grasped her slave by her collar and tugged her along. The smaller girl let out a squeak of surprise, but made no further protests. She stumbled alongside Tara and looked miserable.

By the time they walked into the inn, the sun had set. The bubbling cauldron in front of the fire looked very inviting. Tara was hungry and tired. Without a word, Tara strode forward, pulled up a stool, and sat down. Epona very hesitantly knelt at her feet. The slave still looked very upset, Tara noted with some annoyance. The warrior drew her dagger, plucked a bit of meat from the pot, and popped it into her mouth.

Epona hugged her knees miserably the whole time Tara ate. She accepted the tidbits that her owner offered her, but her green eyes never strayed far from the door, the warrior noted. Tara scowled at this. She'd been angry at the goddess and the blond Celt up on the hill. Now that her temper had cooled a little, Tara wondered if she hadn't been too hasty in leaving Eirian behind. As Epona had pointed out, there were wild animals near Kilkee - wolves, for example, and the occasional wildcat. And while Eirian was a capable girl, Tara doubted she'd be much of a match for either one.

The warrior was just about to relent and suggest going out to search for the girl when the inn door opened, and Eirian slipped in. A blast of wind and sleet accompanied her. She found Tara in a moment and moved over to her. "I'm sorry, warrior," she said softly. "I felt I needed more time to commune with the Morrigan. You left so quickly I couldn't tell you."

"Whatever," Tara muttered. "Just sit down." Eirian quietly dropped to her knees beside Epona. The redhead began once again to pluck bits of food from the cauldron, this time handing the majority of them to the blond. Eirian ate in silence. Tara noticed that she was shivering, however. She wrestled with herself for a few minutes, and then sighed. "Listen," she said gruffly, "I'll take the runt upstairs to make up the room. Stay here and warm up. I'll get you later."

Eirian gave her a grateful look. "All right," she said. Tara and Epona took their leave.

It didn't take long for the slave to make up the fire and fluff the pillows. Tara sat down on the bed and watched as Epona plumped up one last cushion. Then the girl bounded to her feet. "Should I go get Eirian now?" she asked brightly, her whole demeanor changed now that the priestess was safe.

"No." Tara got up. "I don't want you running around alone, little mouse. You look Romusi, remember?" Epona's face fell, and she nodded. Tara ruffled her curls gently. "I'll get her," she said. "I'll only be a minute." With that, the warrior headed back to the common room.

Eirian was huddled by the fire, toasting her hands. She looked up as the warrior approached. "Is it time to go upstairs?" she asked. Tara shrugged and nodded. The priestess rose to her feet, but Tara didn't move. They stood and looked at each other.

After a minute or two, Tara spoke. "The Morrigan say anything more to you?"

The priestess paused. "Nothing very clear," she said softly. "There's danger coming, I think. And you've been chosen to stop it, warrior."

Tara frowned. "The old bat said something about Epona," she said. "Something like it'll be hard for her. She in danger?"

Eirian looked down at the fire. Her pale face looked troubled. "Nothing's clear," she murmured. "The goddess didn't speak directly to or through me. There are only pictures...flashes of..." Her voice trailed off for a moment. Tara folded her arms. "I believe we will all be in danger," the priestess said finally. "I don't know what that danger is, exactly. I only know that we can defeat it." Her gray eyes were unfocused.

The redhead snorted. "I can defeat it, you mean," she grumbled. "Bloody goddess will probably drop me in the middle of some damn battlefield armed with a twig." Eirian looked up again, the faraway look fading. Tara gestured curtly. "C'mon, Blondie," she said. "Room's warmed up. Time to get some sleep." Eirian bowed her head gravely. In silence, the two headed off to their room.


End file.
